Marvel Phantom
by Slayer Anderson
Summary: So...the Fentons punch a hole through to the afterlife in their basement and develop unparalleled hover technology and...they're crackpots? Being taken seriously can be good...and bad, especially if you attract the notice of Howard Stark, S.H.I.E.L.D, A.I.M, and a host of other agencies. Suddenly, the Fentons have to contend with a world wider and stranger than they ever imagined.
1. Chapter 1

Slayer Anderson

Marvel Phantom

A Danny Phantom/Marvel 'Verse Crossover

06/28/2012

Summary: So...the Fentons punch a hole through to the afterlife in their basement and develop unparalleled hover technology and...they're crackpots? Being taken seriously can be good...and bad.

A/N: Alright, same general idea as DC Phantom, but with a different universe. As the Marvel 'verse has many, many, _many_ different permutations, I have to choose a 'canon' set of media for this project; as such, this is what has come to be known as a 'patchwork fic' and here's the list (so far):

Danny Phantom (Pre-series start point)

X-Men Evolution (Pre-series start point)

Iron Man: Armored Adventures (Pre-series start point)

Spiderman: Multiple Versions (Modified Canon [Pre-series start point])

A/N #2: Yeah, and on a personal note, why aren't the Fentons famous? Like internationally? To the point where they're household names? I mean, stop and think for a moment: In what world would proof of an afterlife (read, proof of LIFE AFTER DEATH) not be the single biggest discovery since...fire? Rational thought? I understand that, for Amity Park at least, the Fentons are synonymous with the idea of 'Mad Scientists,' but there is a fine, fine line between 'goofy inventors' and 'revolutionary geniuses'...and I think it's crossed when someone _punches a hole into another dimension in their basement! _Still, fine, maybe no one believed them and they didn't bother telling anyone they'd confirmed the existence of life after death. That still leaves the fact that they developed hover technology, effective energy weapons technology, a_ shrink ray_, and a dozen other things that would make them instantly world famous and/or millionaires. So, yeah...not with the sense making at all.

Chapter I – Big Discoveries

"I look incredibly stupid."

"No," Sam denied immediately, "_You_ look cool, Tucker looks stupid."

"Hey!"

Daniel James Fenton and his two best friends, Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson had gathered in his room for the great and noble purpose that was 'putting on costumes.' Well, at least Danny and Tucker had; Sam had borrowed the hall bathroom for her own use. This meant that the goth was now tweaking and adjusting various pieces of clothing which hadn't been put on correctly as per her exacting specifications.

The exact reason for this whole debacle still escaped the two male teens, though Sam had probably explained the matter several times over by that point.

"I still can't believe I let you talk me into this," Danny sighed, looking over the mirror again. "Are you _sure_ we're supposed to dress this way?"

"Absolutely," She affirmed, giving Danny a critical eye as she looked over his outfit. "This is _so rare_, guys! I can't believe we actually get to go to to a Goth Metal Concert!"

Danny shook his head, once more questioning exactly why he went to these insane extents to satisfy his friends' bizarre obsessions. As his eyes cut towards Sam and he barely restrained a bright flush from creeping over his skin, he was given a jarring reminder of what, exactly, part of the reason was. The..._contraption_ Sam was wearing consisted of a strange combination of black and dark purple cloth, fishnet, metal, and spikes; the effect of all of these was...provocative, to say the least, in Danny's teenage mind.

"What am I supposed to be, anyway?" Tucker asked, looking himself over as well. His clothing was a strange mix of garish red fabric, an equal amount of black, and a patchwork theme that was somehow reminiscent of a doll or mannequin. To certify it as a 'goth metal' outfit, Sam had draped a series of chains around his arms, chest, and legs in conjunction with a spiked collar that Danny had only seen bikers and punks pull off seriously. Still, the outfit worked in some bizarre way, aligning Tucker with some strange theme their group had evidently been ordained with.

Honestly, it was a little creepy.

"You're a court jester," Sam explained, handing him a hat that was more a ragged piece of cloth than anything else. With the headpiece on, it gave the usually goofy teen a more...demented look, something like a mass-murdering clown.

Yep, more than a little creepy.

"Ooookay," Tucker said slowly, tilting his head oddly as he looked at himself wonderingly. "I'm with Danny, these costumes are weird. I thought you said we were going to a goth rock concert or something, not a crazy medieval times fair!"

"We are," Sam sighed exasperatedly, "The headliner is a group called 'Vandal Knights,' like medieval knights, so they wear armor and swords and stuff while they're on stage. We're supposed to dress up to support the band."

"Uh-huh," Danny nodded doubtfully, looking himself over yet again. "And I am?"

"Guess," Sam replied wryly as she passed him a long wooden staff with a piece of curved gray plastic jutting out at the top. With the...scythe in place at his side, the image clicked together with the suddenness of a photograph snapping into focus. "I got the idea from this picture I saw on the internet, what do you think?"

Distantly, he noted that Sam sounded uncharacteristically...shy, almost, but definitely unsure of herself. Currently, however, he was absorbed in his...costume. "Wow, I'm the...okay, that's pretty cool."

The goth teen grinned slightly, her purple-coated lips pulling upwards at the edges as a minute blush covered her cheeks. "Awesome. I wanted something kind of original for you guys, seeing as how I'm going to end up wearing something pretty standard."

Tucker snorted, "Standard? No way anyway can pull the Gothic Princess look off like you Sam."

"Tucker's right," Danny added, smiling at the sight of a newly intensified blush blooming on her face, "You look great...I just didn't think you'd manage to make a pair of geeks like us look this good with only a change of clothes."

Sam shrugged, still preening slightly. "Well, I don't think you'll be able to wear these around school, even if you look good in them. You wouldn't want to make Dash jealous or anything, right?"

The two males shared a grim chuckle.

"Here," Sam added suddenly, reaching behind him and pulling up the hood of his sleeveless jacket, which hung open over a long-sleeved black leather shirt. With his face in shadow and the fabric of the cloak folding loosely over his shoulders, the overall effect was definitely intimidating. "That's a little better, even. How are the metal parts, though? They aren't digging into anything, are they?"

_'Because, of course, it wouldn't be a 'goth metal' costume without metal,'_ Danny thought with a snort as he moved his arms and legs, trying to judge the fit of the odd bits of metal that had been sewn in an overlapping fashion onto the dark leather of what Sam had called a 'tunic.' Likewise, a piecemeal set of armor plates had been attached to the shins of his heavy black denim pants and visible studs of metal were layered inside and outside the boots themselves and on his gloves as well, turning the previous simple pieces of thick leather into what looked almost like gauntlets.

The overall effect of the outfit was very goth...punk...something.

It was also very hot.

And heavy.

The material was all very thick, dark fabrics and leathers with the added weight of metal bolted and sewn onto it. Despite, or probably because of, Danny's light frame, he could feel every ounce of weight pressing down on his shoulders; in combination with the fact that he was wearing two layers of clothing, he was already beginning to slowly sweat and soak through _both _his under-clothes and the 'costume' he was wearing on top of it. The overall effect was both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly incumbering.

Still, Sam had been working on these costumes for over a week and even though he could see a similar discomfort on Tucker's face, neither were going to complain openly about it. Danny grinned, "Nope, feels pretty good actually. Are you sure these won't be a little hot when we get to the concert?"

"Probably a little," Sam admitted, "But don't worry, everyone else will be wearing the same stuff. There's always a little concert 'funk' at these things, when you get a few hundred people together jumping and yelling in really heavy clothing, no one's going to smell exactly like roses."

"Funk?" Tucker asked, eyebrows raising.

"Anyway, accessories!" Sam grinned, seeming wholly unlike her normal grumpy-goth persona she exuded at school. "After that, we can leave."

"Funk?" Tucker asked again, now worried, before he did a double-take and tracked Sam across the room where she was leveraging a large paper bag, "Wait, accessories? As in jewelry and stuff? No thanks." Upturning the bag onto the table, both male teens raised their eyebrows further as they looked over the pile.

"Huh," Danny commented dumbly, "That's a lot of...bling. It's bling, right?" He turned to Tucker.

"Yeah, it's bling-tastic," Tucker drawled, fishing out a plastic bag, "And temporary tattoos?"

"This is going to be _fun_," Danny groused lowly, "Which ones do we put on?"

"Well..." Sam shrugged, spreading out the mixture of the medallions, pins, tattoos. "I brought a mix of my stuff. I was going to use these," she explained laying out a set of emblazoned rings, bracelets, and necklaces covered with dragons, Celtic knots, and Nordic hammer motifs. "Just use whatever looks coolest, speaks to your individuality, and best displays the symbolism of your soul."

"What does that mean?" Tucker asked dubiously, sifting through the mass. "Symbolism of your soul?"

"Or you could just go with whatever matches your clothing," Sam sighed exasperatedly. She grabbed a silver chain with blunted spikes and a medallion with two masks hanging from it. "These are drama and comedy masks, they're ancient Greek symbols of the theater, which kind of goes along with your court jester look."

"Cool," Tucker shrugged, slipping the decoration on.

"Huh," Danny said intelligently, looking at the amassed symbols from dozens of countries, histories, and cultures around the world lying together in a pile on his bed. He knew little enough about religion and history that he was really only able to pick out something that looked vaguely Egyptian. The temporary tattoo was something he thought he recognized from a text book or documentary...or something.

"It's an ankh," Sam explained as she slipped on a silver ring.

"A what?" Danny asked.

"An ankh, an ancient symbol of life used in ancient Egypt," Sam replied, giving Danny a once-over. "I think that would work...here."

She took the slip of tattoo paper from his hands and peeled off the clear side, stepping uncomfortably close as she did so. Danny blushed and flinched back as her hands came up to his face, "Wha-!? What are you doing?"

"You've got long-sleeves, gloves, and long pants on. If you want a temp tat, I don't think there's anywhere _else _to put it other than your face. You _do _want this one on right, because I think it would look good on your right cheek, just under your eye," Sam explained, her own cheeks stained slightly pink.

Danny blinked, surprised at the logical argument. "All right," he relented, "I'll just-"

"-Hold still," Sam commanded, leaning in so closely Danny could smell a hint of lavender perfume. The warm touch of her fingers on his cheek sent a shiver through him as she pressed the tattoo paper against his cheek, smoothing it out before peeling it away and leaving a bright silver ankh emblazoned on the youngest Fenton's face. "Here's a mirror."

"Cool," Danny shrugged, supposing that if it satisfied Sam it was good enough for him, "I think I can get by without jewelry, right?"

"Fat chance," Sam grinned, sweeping her hand through the pile of chains and accessories. "If you really don't want anything, take these and we'll call it even."

"Oookay," Danny sighed, looking over the proffered neck...pendant. Yeah, pendants were definitely more manly than necklaces, right? It was a...bug with wings? And Sam had also passed him a silver sticker that looked like an eye? "Where do you get this stuff?"

"You should always be prepared to determine the correct mixture of accessories to express your unique attitude in any situation," Sam stated, her expression daring her friend to object. "This," she said, pointing to the beetle-looking-thing, "Is a winged-scarab, also an Egyptian symbol and the sticker is an Eye of Horus."

"What happened to his other eye?" Danny remarked glibly.

"It's supposed to symbolize wisdom," Sam explained heedlessly, giving him a pointed look. "You know, that thing you grow into?"

"Ouch," Danny grinned, slapping the sticker onto his glove and sliding the 'winged-scarab' neck-_pendant_ over his head. "Okay, so...final verdict. Does the whole Egyptian-medieval grim reaper look work for me?"

"Well," Sam drawled, giving him a once-over before pointing at the mirror, "I think it looks great, but ideally _you _should be the judge of whether or not the costume is an accurate expression of your individuality."

Danny looked into the mirror, judging himself for a brief second. At this point, wearing what felt like twenty additional pounds of clothing, metal, and extra jewelry, he was willing to go with anything to get to this 'awesome concert' that Sam had waxed poetic about so much. "Looks great, now that I've shamelessly ripped off two ancient cultures instead of one, I'm good right?"

Sam rolled her eyes and opened her mouth-

"Danny? Sweetie?"

That wasn't Sam's voice. In point of fact, that was his mom's voice.

"Mom?" Danny asked, addressing the door. "What's up?" He really hoped she didn't open the door; Sam might get excited about wigging her parents out, but he didn't need his life any harder than it already was. And _his _mom, seeing him wearing _this _outfit? Yeah, that was a recipe for disaster. Thankfully, he gotten away with telling his parents that he was just going to a concert tonight, nothing specific.

"Your father and I are going out to dinner tonight; Jack needs a little cheering up after the Portal didn't work yesterday. Anyway, have fun at the concert, see you kids later!" Maddie Fenton's voice trailed off at the end, her footsteps barely audible, but retreating.

Danny breathed an internal sigh of relief.

"Portal?" Tucker asked.

"The Ghost Portal," Danny sighed, this time for a different reason. "My parent's newest failure. It's supposed to be some sort of quasi-stable dimensional vortex bridging the gap between two planes of existence that-"

His friends stared blankly at him.

_'Woops, a little too smart, there,'_ Danny chastised himself. "-And then I kind of lost track of the ghost-gibberish and gave my parents the look you're giving me now."

Sam snorted. "Awesome. So...can we see it?"

"Aren't we running a bit low on time?" Danny edged, not wanting to broach the topic of the lab being 'off-limits' to him, Jazz, and anyone without explicit permission.

"We've got a few minutes," Tucker shrugged, looking up from his PDA.

"See," Sam wheedled, "Your parents inventions are so cool, Danny...even if they don't work half the time."

"Really?" Danny asked doubtfully, his expression deadpan.

"They are pretty neat, dude, especially the ones that explode," Tucker nodded.

"...all right," Danny sighed once again. "Let's do this quick and get if over with...and guys, _please _don't mess with anything. My parents are pretty big on the lab being a 'no-touchy' zone."

Jazz was thankfully out on a tutoring session, leaving the three free to dodge a lecture about danger, responsibility, and the hazards of the lab as they made their way down to the basement. The entire place was a pretty convincing tableau of chaos, even if his parents swore that some kind of organizational system existed. _'Honestly, I can't shake the feeling that I'm walking into some kind of mad scientist's lab every time he came down here,'_ Danny thought perversely.

"Here it is, can we go now?" Danny asked, growing tired of the evening already and half-worried that his father had forgotten the keys to the car or something and was about to storm back inside.

"Cool," Sam grinned, looking over the massive concave device built into a large projection of machinery against one side of the lab. "And...what's it supposed to do again?"

"It's a-" Danny started, then thought better of himself, "basically, it's a portal to the ghost zone. It's this place that my parents are convinced ghosts float around being...ghostly. If it had worked, though, they'd have proved ghosts exist, which was the important part for them."

"Uh-huh," Tucker said doubtfully, "Danny we've been over this before, but...your parents watched waaay too many scary movies as children, didn't they?"

"Well I know they were like this back in their college days, at least," Danny admitted, looking over the device again. "I found an old yearbook once; mom and dad and this other guy with a mullet were building a smaller-looking version of this thing."

"It's pretty awesome that your parents were able to follow their dreams like this," Sam state, looking around the lab again. "The ghost zone, huh? Why do you think it didn't work?"

"Because ghosts don't exist?" Tucker asked sarcastically.

Danny shrugged, dodging the question.

If there was one thing he never liked to discuss, it was ghosts. Ghosts were the bane of his existence, enthralling his parents to the point where they had missed a good chunk of both his and Jazz's childhoods slaving away down here with little to show for it. Unfortunately, the fact that his parents were jumpsuit-wearing weirdos was public knowledge...and he was a social exile for being the son of 'those people.' With all of this working against 'paranormal studies' in Daniel James Fenton's world, it wasn't like he could tell his friends that he actually agreed with his parents a bit; ghosts were pretty interesting.

Not in a jumpsuit-wearing way, though.

Or a crazy, yelling-at-the-top-of-your-lungs way either.

But in a proud-of-your-parents way? Sure. He liked the fact that his parents were researching something normal science didn't take seriously and trying to prove the world wrong about the 'crazy-Fentons.' So, yeah, his parents were embarrassing, odd, and even a little bizarre at times, but he could be proud of them for what they did.

Occasionally.

As long as he didn't tell anyone.

"Okay, you guys have seen it...and it doesn't even work," Danny reminded them, "Can we go now?"

"I guess," Sam said, a little disappointed as she took a step inside to get one last, close look at the 'Ghost Portal.'

"Hey Sam," Danny interjected, stepping forward, "You really shouldn't go in there-"

And then it happened.

His feet, never the most nimble of body parts on the best of days, were encased in enough dead cow and metal to kill another cow with, catching themselves on one of the large cables strewn across the floor.

Danny's hand, reaching out for Sam, tumbled into her, pushing her against the side of the machine and sending her rolling out of the conical 'portal.'

No one saw the red-and-green power switch she collided with.

Danny groaned as he impacted the floor, leveraging himself up with the stupid plastic scythe-thing Sam had given him. _'Just great. This night's off to a great start. Sam, I hope you appreciate this...I'm baking in more clothing than I've worn since Halloween last year, my parents are going to be ticked if I dinged their prize invention, and I'm probably going to bruise there tomorrow. Not to mention-'_

_ 'What's that noise?'_ Danny thought suddenly, with all the dread and surety that something very, very _bad_ was about to happen.

Sam, sitting up from where she had fallen, and Tucker helping her, each looked up as a building whine, the kind that preceded the activation of electronics and machines, began to make itself known. All three teens' eyes widened as they locked with each other in realization.

"Danny, get out-" Tucker started.

It was too late.

**Marvel Phantom**

"Are you _sure _you're all right?" Sam asked again.

"Dude, I really think we should go to a hospital or something, you were _electrocuted_! There's no way you can be fine after that," Tucker argued.

"For the last time, guys, I'm fine!" Danny cried in exasperation.

And, miraculously, he was. Perfectly fine, not even a scratch on him, and that was beyond bizarre, given what he'd been through. Everything from that weird whining noise up until he tumbled out of the Ghost Portal, now active, was a massive green blur. There had been pain, _pain _beyond anything he'd ever felt before, and a massive surge of...

Something.

Something strange.

And, the next thing he knew, he was gasping for air on the floor of the lab, feeling...tingly, for lack of a better word, and holding a charred piece of wood and plastic that had once been his 'scythe.' The burn marks on the wood and the melted plastic had been the _only _indication anything untoward had happened. Well, there had been one other strange occurrence in the laboratory that night:

The Portal was working now.

An eerie pool of glowing green light that ebbed and flowed of its own accord, the hypnotic effect mesmerizing all three teens even as Danny lay stunned on the ground. _'It was the most terrifyingly beautiful thing I've ever seen...like being in the same room as a lion or tiger.'_

And that just _wasn't _something that he thought about normally.

Danny Fenton didn't wax poetic about anything except burgers, video games, cheesy horror movies, and-_sigh_-Paulina. _'So...maybe, just maybe, I'm not completely okay...in the strictest sense, but I had to get out of that house.'_

Even when he wasn't looking into the Portal, it still hung heavy in his mind, a near-constant presence _thrumming _with an alien power that felt as familiar as the blood in his veins. _'I just...even __being _near_ that stupid portal was wigging me out, but it's not like there's anything really 'wrong' with __me. It's probably something like PTSD or..."_

"Well," Sam sighed, "If you're going to be an idiot about it, we might as well enjoy the concert, but signal Tucker or me the _minute _you start feeling weird and we'll get out of here, okay?"

Tucker didn't look happy, but nodded, "Al...alright, just don't do something like that again again, dude, you really scared us."

Danny swallowed, deeply before nodding. _'I scared myself too, Tuck. I just wish this tingling would go-'_

The youngest Fenton blinked, his thoughts skidding to a halt as his eyes fixed onto an odd green-tinged man leaning against the side of the massive warehouse they were about to enter. His form was strangely translucent and he seemed to be wearing clothing from a different time...though not like the costume he, Tucker, and Sam were wearing. This guy looked as though he'd stepped out of one of the old black-and-white crime dramas a century ago, utterly at home at the corner of the dark alleyway he stood against. Danny shook his head, rubbing his eyes to clear them, and-

He was gone.

_'Great. I'm seeing things now. That's just...great,'_ the teen thought sarcastically, glaring at the space where he'd seen the figure.

"-Earth to Danny," Tucker shouted, jarring him again.

"Wh-Sorry," Danny apologized, rubbing at the back of his head, "I just...spaced out there, for a moment."

"Sure," Tucker replied doubtfully, looking to where Sam had gone to get them passes. "Danny, are you _really _sure you're okay? 'Cause...Sam will be angrier if you get hurt trying to go all macho to attend this concert than if you need to go home."

"I'm fine," Danny repeated, without the heat of the earlier comment. _'It was just a trick of the light. All I need to concentrate on tonight is partying and having a good time with my friends. When I get home, the portal will have shorted out or blown a fuse like all my parent's other inventions and by next week, I'll have forgotten all about it.'_

"Hey guys!" Sam called waving two colorful pieces of plastic, "Here! I got the passes!"

"Awesome," Danny grinned, throwing himself into the thrill of excitement Sam was...giving off?

_'Imagining it!'_ Danny hummed mentally, _'Her excitement is contagious, that's it!'_

She was certainly smiling wide enough, at least. He could swear that she was radiating 'good vibes' like some bad 70's drug trip. _'La-la-la!' _Danny forced a grin, smiling despite his inner turmoil, _'Everything's cool, cool as a cucumber!...Never did understand that line.'_

Another blink and the weird 'cloud' that had been forming behind Sam disappeared.

Danny's grin became a bit more genuine.

As the trio passed into the building, more of the stress had been building throughout the evening began to leak away. The odd looks they had been getting as they were driven around in the taxi were wiped clean as they mingled with people wearing just as much (if not more) metal, leather, and odd clothing as them.

_'When you put it that way it sounds a little...weird,' _Danny grimaced, giving a stunned glance at a guy wearing nearly a full set of armor spray-painted with the headliner's logo and name. _'Okay, so maybe it _is _a little weird.'_

"Hey Tuck?" Danny asked, his eyes widening further as he looked around the seething mass of humanity.

"Yeah?" The other teen asked, taking similar action.

"You remember that comic convention we went to a few years ago?" Danny replied.

"Yeah," Tucker nodded.

"I think I know how Sam felt now," Danny admitted.

"Me too," Tucker nodded.

Sam, however, looked right at home among the crowd. A few of the people even waved or greeted her as one of their own. Those same people gave nods and polite scowls to Danny and Tucker as they observed Sam's friends. It was more than obvious that they weren't exactly welcome, but tolerated due to their common association with Sam Manson.

"No seats?" Danny muttered.

"Standing room only," Tucker snorted lowly. "Well, at least I know what Sam meant with that 'funk' comment. This place...it _smells _exactly the way that convention did, too, but only after the third day of cosplay, no showers, and sleeping in hallways to get the best seats for the convention speakers."

"Amen," Danny grunted.

"Hey, looks like the opening act is starting up," Sam enthused, turning from where she had been chatting with an acquaintance wearing what Robin Hood's Goth brother probably wore, complete with arrows and totally unnecessary spikes.

"Oh, cool, music will always help lighten the-are they wearing makeup?" Danny asked disbelievingly.

"If you say that any louder, you're going to get of kicked out," Sam hissed, level a hard glare at her friend and looking around to see if anyone had heard.

"Alright! Sorry, but...why are they...you know?" Danny whispered in reply.

"Think of it like warpaint," Sam sighed irritably. "Like each concert they give is a battle against their primal urges and an effort to grow stronger."

"So, like...KISS?" Danny asked groping for a point of mental reference.

"Wha-No! Not like-" Sam palmed her face and sighed. "Sure, like KISS, just keep it down."

Tucker exchanged a shrug with Danny, neither knowing exactly what Sam was ticked about this time. Both stumbled as the crowd suddenly roared louder than ever, almost deafening in its intensity, hundreds of voices roaring in approval as the opening cords of a harsh demented...'music.' Tucker and Danny stood, nearly stunned as strains of a violent and discordant melody blew their minds, becoming impossibly louder and louder.

The next hours were lost in a haze of cacophonous confusion, loud music, and an even louder crowd. Several bands came and went before a truly massive set of men walked onto the stage wearing stylized suits of armor, flowing capes, and even swords.

"Amity Park!"

The crowd screamed and Danny was surprised to find himself among the cheering throng.

"We...are the Vandal Knights!"

Another cheer.

"And we...are here...to ROCK YOU HARDER THAN YOU'VE EVER BEEN ROCKED BEFORE!" The leader of the band yelled in the microphone, receiving raucous applause for doing more damage to their audience's hearing than a dozen hours on their respective MP3 players of choice. Tucker and Danny, although still somewhat staggered by the volume, had long-since been infected by the overwhelming surge of the crowd.

The deep _thrum_ of the bass was so powerful they could hear it in their molars, the screech of the guitar piercing in the extreme, and the concussive force of the drums was a battering ram to the mind. All through it, Danny enjoyed himself, thrashing around in the pit of grungy, sweaty goths wearing far too much metal and far, _far _too much leather.

For a while, hours seemed to pass by unnoticed, the party escalating to new heights until Danny, Tucker, and Sam needed a rest. The three friends pushed their way towards a wall stacked with soda, carefully concealed beer, bags of chips, and a slew of other processed, packaged, and (probably) greasy snack foods. Snagging a hand full of miscellaneous items for themselves, they sequestered in a small alcove, tucked away from the still booming volume of the music.

"_Whew!_" Sam sighed, her voice breathy and her face streaked with sweat. Danny and Tucker were in little better condition, feeling almost _soggy _underneath their outfits. "Isn't this great!"

"Amazing," Danny grinned, surprising himself with the enthusiasm in his voice.

Tucker grinned and began guzzling a soda.

Sam gave them both a dazzling smile, relieved beyond words that she'd been able to not only talk her friends into going to one of her 'goth things,' but that they'd actually _enjoyed themselves._ She cracked a soda herself and quenched her dry throat.

Danny exhaled deeply.

_'I probably have a few more hours in me, but after a while they'd have to think about...'_ He paused, _'what was that?'_

The flicker of blue-green movement that caught his attention really should have been lost in the swell of music, lights, and people, but his eyes fixed resolutely on the odd green shadow slipping through the crowd. As he focused, slivers of green began to shade his own blue eyes, invading his physical appearance even as _something_ churned within him.

Then he saw him...it.

The green thing that looked like a person, but wasn't. The thing he'd seen before and written off as a figment of his imagination. It wore a finely tailored suit the likes of which Al Capone had probably demanded, but gleaming a shade of unearthly green. It should have looked silly, stupid, almost comical, but instead...

A chill, the cold touch of the grave crawled up his spine and out of his mouth.

He felt cold, suddenly...he wouldn't be surprised if his lips had gone blue. His fingers were almost numb, the tingling of near-hypothermia dancing around the sensation of touch and feeling. A cold, chilling breath swept through his lungs and out into the sweat-ridden humid air of the impromptu concert-hall. A momentary shadow of frost in the air showed that, somehow this was not his imagination, that he was not making this up, that...

His eyes focused on the figure again, this time seeing what he had missed before in his cursory inspection:

The _thing_ bore a gory hole in its chest, emerald blood dripping onto its suit.

The concert suddenly seemed far away, for all that he was surrounded by a hundred moving human bodies filled with light and life...everything had drawn away, leaving him curiously alone with that _thing_ which was shifting through the shades of human bodies as if they weren't really there at all. Fear, anguish, rage clenched at Danny's heart, emotions that were as alien as the cold touch of death to the living.

Danny's vision swam as his hand passed through the shadow space where the drink table had been-

Then he took a breath, and everything was normal.

He could hear the raucous crowd, the boisterous noise of the music, the heat of human bodies pressed close to each other. His own body had even returned to its equilibrium, the blessed weight of his clothing, bone, and flesh pressing down on his soul. The indescribable feeling of _feeling of life _suffused his, washing away the numbness of...

Another shiver wracked his body and he pushed the thought away viciously.

The moment had seemed like an eternity, but as Tucker looked back to him, Danny realized it had only been a fraction of a second that had slowed to agelessness.

"Dude, you okay?" Tucker asked loudly, yelling over the music, concern evident in his gaze.

Danny coughed, holding up his partially-drained soda and pounding his chest, hoping Tucker bought the act. "Yeah! Just drank too fast!"

Tucker nodded, trying to put himself at ease.

Sam had been too enthused with the whole fangirl-rockband thing to really notice, but Danny had been _off _the entire night. Even as his friend went back to sipping his soda, Tucker tried not to show how much he noticed that Danny hadn't choked; his friend had _paled_, not flushed, which meant he hadn't had something caught in his throat...

_'Maybe I shouldn't jump to conclusions,'_ Tucker sighed, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. _'I mean, he did just have a brush with death, or something. I don't know what his parents were thinking leaving that thing around in the basement for us to mess with...or what we were thinking messing with it.'_ But, try as he might, Tucker couldn't exorcise the thought that something was...well, for lack of a better term, _wrong_ about his friend since the incident.

Each time he turned away from Danny, his friend seemed to _fade _somehow, become less significant. Every now and then, Danny would go slightly 'gray,' as if his skin had been washed clean of color. Then, there was the strange, flickering light that seemed to sweep across his eyes...a gleaming sickly green that was almost familiar-

Danny gasped, and Tucker turned to look-

_'It's happening again, just be calm...it'll go away like last time, just wait and...'_ Danny attempted to convince himself as his vision swam again, his body lightening to weigh as much as a graveyard mist. Then, the figure, that _thing _was there, again. He was closer this time, and the raven-haired teen could see the mottled skin that was hanging too-loose on his frame.

**Go. Away.**

The sheer hatred in the words nearly too Danny's icy breath away.

**Go. Away. Let. Me. Sleep.**

The words throbbed in him mind, bypassing his ears and stabbing into the core of his being.

**Noisy. Too. Noisy.**

A shock wave erupted through the nothingness and silence of the void around him.

**Need. Peace. Sleep.**

Something strong, something dark, poured out of the misty emptiness and _wrapped around the steel of the warehouse, fibrous green energy shaking the building to pieces-_

**Marvel Phantom**

"...concussion, we'll want to keep her overnight."

He was calm, now. Turbulent emotions had vanished, leaving nothing but a cool, tranquil void where panic and fear had gripped him.

"...lucky you boys were there. Might have saved her life..."

Sam was going to be okay. Nothing else mattered.

"...go home. Get some rest."

Nothing else mattered. Not the cold grip of death that was, even now, only a heartbeat away. Not the harsh light at the end of a long, dark, tunnel.

"...call her parents?"

Tucker was talking, which was good, because it meant he was looking at Danny with wide, disbelieving eyes, and freak, _freak, __**freak**_...

"...already done. Have the nurse's station call you a taxi..."

The rest of the evening was a blur. Right now, he was just glad it was over. Sam was safe, the other people were safe. No one had seen him slip away. No one was asking any awkward questions. No one had seen him _reach through a steel girder to pull his friend out of the rubble-_

No. That hadn't happened.

"Sam's going to be fine," Tucker said unnecessarily, as if trying to convince himself. "The doc says she just god a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. He really wanted us to stay until our parents could be called, but I fast-talked our way out of that one. The hot nurse-lady just called us a cab by the way. Sam's parents are going to be here soon, too, so we might want to skedaddle."

Neither made motion to break the unspoken resolution not to talk about..._it._

Of course, like all world-changing events, Tucker couldn't hold back once they had stepped into the temperate night air. As far north as they were, summer was still almost unpleasantly warm, though fall was starting to bring cooler weather. With school starting back in a week, all three teens had hoped this was going to be the 'end of summer blow out' before they got into high school. As soon as they had dropped onto the bench to await their taxi, Tucker's mouth _exploded._

"Dude! Wha-_how_?! Your arm just, and Sam was-but!? _What Happened?!"_

Tucker's panicked shout rang out, a few errant pedestrians turning a curious eye towards the distraught teen before continuing on with their business.

"Nothing. Happened."

Danny's voice was stone cold, his eyes squeezing shut as he refused to acknowledge the question had even been asked. If he could just focus, focus on nothing. The question hadn't been asked, he wasn't here to hear it, Tucker hadn't seen...hadn't seen _it._

He didn't see it, couldn't have seen it.

Because there wasn't anything to see.

It hadn't happened.

"-ny! Danny! Snap out of it man, you're...doing that thing! Where you go untouchable!" Tucker whispered urgently, looking about as Danny's form washed out of color, becoming a misty gray-white, almost translucent, even as every cell in his body screamed in some primal alert to run, run and never look back.

Thankfully, his pleas seemed to get through to his friend, Danny's eyes snapping open and a heavy breath leaving his lungs even as he faded back into..._being._

Danny pressed the heals of his hands onto his eyes, his voice coming out in a long wailing moan, "Nonononononono! This can't be happening!"

"Calm down Danny," Tucker ordered, confidence rising as he assured himself that no one had seen his friend's 'freak-out' and the little voice in the back of his head was no longer screaming to head for the hills. "You're cool, whatever's happening is fine. You saved Sam's life, you're a hero!"

Unfortunately, this seemed to have the exact opposite effect Tucker intended.

"Sam!" Danny gasped, his head snapping up to lock eyes with Tucker. Again, that greenish surge flickered over Danny's eyes as the black teen suppressed a shiver. "You can't tell Sam. Never. We dug her out of the rubble by hand! Promise me!"

"But dude-" Tucker started, shocked at the suggestion that they keep something this _big _from their mutual friend.

"Promise me!" Danny hissed.

Tucker bit back his refusal in the face of the..._inhumanity _in Danny's face. Something too pale, too cold and brittle and _sharp_ was looking out his friend's eyes. Eyes that were now flashing spectral green. He had to keep Danny calm...and they could always decide to tell Sam later. She was in the hospital right now anyway, and by the time she got out, Danny would have calmed down and he could convince him to clue Sam in. Right now, though, Danny needed the assurance that his secret, whatever it was, was safe.

"Alright. I promise." Tucker sighed. "I won't tell anyone."

Danny seemed to collapse into himself, the tension releasing like a dozen puppet strings cut, allowing the mannequin to fall loose. "Thanks," he whispered.

**Marvel Phantom**

Daniel James Fenton awoke to the sound of shouting.

Shooting out of bed, he-

-noticed he had actually _shot out of bed and was hovering three feet over his sheets._

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

The short cry turned into more of a yelp as the teen plummeted back to earth, his impact sending him sprawling over the bed and onto the floor. Dazedly, Danny lay still for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened before the events of the night before caught up with him. Scrambling, he sat up and huddled against the bed, his eyes wide and disbelieving as his quickened heart slowed down.

"Okay Fenton, calm down. I'm on the ground, no one saw me, everything's okay-"

"Danny?" The shout, accompanied by a pair of knocks on his door, interrupted him momentarily.

"Yeah Jazz?" Danny asked, trying to keep his voice steady as his pulse quickened again at the thought of someone near him during one of his...episodes. _'Yeah, episodes, that sounds good, cause I'm pretty sure I'm going crazy!'_

"You alright little bro?" Jazz asked, making no move to opened the door, thankfully.

"Fine, just fell out of bed." His mind jumped tracks then, latching onto a much more familiar and comfortable subject. "What's with all the yelling?"

"Mom and Dad," Jazz explained with a long-suffering tone only Fenton siblings could appreciate. "Some invention of theirs is working and they're all excited. You might want to get dressed, they're calling a reporter or something."

"Joy," Danny muttered, dropping his head onto his knees as he wrapped his arms around his legs. This was just what he needed the week before high school started: a front page picture of his parents being...his parents. "Gimme a minute."

**Marvel Phantom**

"...yes, and we'd like to thank you all for coming out today!" Jack Fenton cried, his boisterous voice booming across the impromptu street fair assembled in front of Fenton Works. The sun was high in the sky, which meant both Danny and Jazz had woken and dressed before noon on a _Saturday_, which put them in none-too-happy moods. Enhancing their displeasure was the fact that several dozen reports from the various newspapers, TV stations, and even a few internet-based reporting programs had all lined up to watch their parents make fools of themselves.

A hand shot up, belonging to a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, "Mr. Fenton! Weekly Weird News! Is this related to the Fenton Triangle Incident 3 years ago?"

Both Maddie and Jack's faces flushed slightly as their pride turned sheepish. "Ah, no. You see, last night, my wife and I made a breakthrough in spectral entanglement breeches, which as you all know-"

Proving that he was every bit as technologically savvy as his wife, if just much sillier, Jack Fenton began the technical explanation of their achievement. His children automatically tuned him out, their 'techno-speak' filters were highly adjusted. Instead, they concentrated on their own rather horrific embarrassment in being made to stand before the amalgamated crowd of news people and townspeople...

In Jumpsuits.

Yes, for this special occasion, the Fenton parents had rolled out teen-sized jumpsuits for Jazz and Danny. Their son wore a black and white set, with off-color gloves, boots, and belt. Jazz had been forced (under threat of grounding and cutting of allowance) into a red and black version of Dannys. Both had forgone the hoods and goggles their parents wore, feeling that their humiliation was already complete enough, thank you very much.

"-And, without further ado," Maddie exclaimed proudly, having taken over from Jack at some point (neither teen had been paying attention), "We'd like to present Fenton Works line of products this year, starting with the Fenton Ghost Portal!"

Danny stiffened.

Sure enough, under a tarp and to the side of the impromptu stage, the Feton Portal sat, glowing an innocuous green as the event horizon of an inter-dimensional wormhole swirled and twisted in the octagonal frame.

A few of the more gullible reports felt their jaws go slack, even as cameras snapped onto the first visuals of the ghost portal. The more skeptical individuals felt their hackles rise as something none of them wanted to admit, fear of the unknown, the supernatural, began to crawl up their spines.

Another hand shot up, the first of many. "Mrs. Fenton! Yes, Daily Bugle Milwaukee Office. I was on my way back from the New York office when I found out about this press conference; I called in to the research department and found out your company has a history of...amazing and unbelievable claims. How are we to know that this...portal, is what you say it is?"

Jack grinned in challenge, "Let me take this one Maddie! Well, to tell you the truth, we expected this and to prove all of you nay-sayers wrong, here's the Feton Ghost Zone Probe!"

A oblong, torpedo-like object was unveiled next, coated in shiny metal and streamlined.

"The Fenton Ghost Zone Probe," Maddie began, "Will be launched into the Ghost Portal and take numerous measurements including temperature, ecto-thermography, radiospectronomy, and more...of course, this will include video and audio data!"

Several in the audience blinked, having expected the Fentons to get defensive or angry at being questioned.

"Mr. Fenton! National Inquirer! How exactly will we know that whatever is on the other side of this...portal, is going to be 'ghosts,' as you claim?" Another reporter asked, not bothering to wait to be called upon.

Maddie and Jack exchanged looks, before Jack stepped up to the plate.

"Well, initially at least, you'll have to take our word for it," several people in the audience couldn't contain their snorts and snickers. "But Fenton Works welcomes any scientific board of inquiry to ascertain whether or not our research is valid."

"Well said Jack!" Maddie grinned. "As my husband indicated, we have always welcomed investigation of our research, though few third parties have taken advantage of this offer."

Many of the reporters began scribbling or typing notes as Jack pushed a button on his remote. The assembled reporters' eyes widened as the Fenton Probe rose off the ground, rising to a height of five feet before stabilizing.

"Now we'll-" Maddie began.

"Mrs. Fenton!" A female news reporter cried, "Associated Press! Pardon the interruption, but is that...device, um...floating?"

Jack and Maddie blinked, looking at each other. Even Danny and Jazz cocked their heads at the question. Their parents had been toying around with hover engines for _years_, what was the big deal about that?

"Well, yes," Maddie began. "That's a patented Fenton Gravity Inverter."

"And...how much can your...um, Gravity Inverter lift?" The reporter asked again.

"Approximately one metric ton, depending on the model." Jack shrugged. "But the Gravity Inverter is only a small part of the Fenton Ghost Zone Probe, which-"

"I'm sorry, but just to confirm: your laboratory has successfully created a device which can lift a ton of weight into the air without the energy requirements being prohibitive?" The reporter asked finally.

"Yes," Maddie explained slowly, as if talking to a child. "It's a relatively simplistic application of physics. Both Danny and Jazz, our children, have been building them for us for years while my husband and I focused on more advanced applications of our research. The Gravity Inverter is, quite literally, 'kids stuff.' In fact, I think Danny built the model that we eventually decided on using for the Fenton Ghost Zone Probe."

Jazz and Danny fidgeted as the cameras momentarily turned to them.

"Mr. and Ms. Fenton, Daily Bugle again; is what your parents saying true?"

Danny shrugged, clearing his throat as he nodded. "Ah, sure. I mean, those things are pretty easy, I could almost build one in my sleep nowadays. They're not like Physics Cancelers or anything, right Jazz?"

"I guess they're pretty easy," Jazz shrugged, uncomfortable with being the center of attention. "Mom and dad only ask us to work with the safe stuff anyway. None of this is too complicated." Jazz turned to her parents, "If you're using the Model II that Danny built for the Probe, why did you want me to put together a Model VI last week?

Several of the townspeople of Amity Park were now staring at both the Fenton kids and parents, slightly slackjawed. The reports were scratching at notepads or pecking at keyboards furiously, observing the byplay between the parents and kids.

Maddie smiled, "Oh, that's for the Specter Speeder, sweetie. We'll be showing that off a little later. At any rate, though, we would like to get on with the demonstration now. Jack, honey, if you would?"

"Right-o Maddie," Jack gestured with his remote again and the Fenton Portal turned so that the edge of the portal was now facing the crowd. The Fenton Ghost Zone Probe advanced smoothy and silently towards the green void. "Now, observe as the Fenton Probe disappears into the Ghost Zone. During this time, the Probe is actually suspended between two dimensions across the event horizon of the Ghost Zone Portal that serves as the bridge between the two realities."

Several jaws dropped among the reporters as the two large digital televisions hung from the front of Fenton Works flickered on, showing a massive expanse of green smog that swirled and twisted about in almost-invisible eddies and whirls. To the audience, it was almost as if the Probe had been dunked into some kind of green ocean.

'Islands' hung within the 'air' of the Ghost Zone, patches of solid rock with various styles and eras of buildings sliding about in the green void. "These are some of the first visuals of another dimension, running live. As you can see, this world is suffused with a green pseudo-liquid psychoreactive substance known as ectoplasm. The ghost zone, as we've learned is full of it, and it is from this substance which ghosts, spirits, phantoms, poltergeists, and other such phenomena are formed," Jack explained, a proud smile on his face.

"The reason why we experience such phenomena in our world," Maddie explained, "is because of the unique properties of ectoplasm and its ability to penetrate dimensional boundaries under the right circumstances. Our research has also hypothesized natural ghost zone portals, but as of yet we've been unable to observe these forming."

"As a result of its psychoreactive properties, ectoplasm has actually been proved to conduct neural impulses, strong emotions, and physio-electric activity. This property allows ectoplasm to absorb a portion of what makes a human being both sentient and sapient, resulting in the creation of what is colloquially termed a 'ghost,'" Jack explained, even as numerous partially-translucent shades of human and non-human entities passed by the screen.

Pale faces among the audience shivered violently with fright.

"On the other side of the equation, we have hypothesized that ectoplasm can, in fact, bond with the human soul. Although we haven't observed this phenomena in action, the metaphysics of such a bond are sound enough. Once the soul disconnects from the body, if it were to encounter a suitable amount of ectoplasm, this could result in a paranormal entity found in folktales. Known as 'undead' in the more classical representations of a ghosts, these are scientifically described as 'Phantoms.'"

Danny's eyes went wide, he'd heard his parents' yammering before, but now...

_'But I'm not dead. I'm not. I can't be-'_ Danny's mind went white, his own footsteps echoing loud in his ears as he stepped into the deactivated Portal. The lightening arching as it used his own body as a bridge. _'Calm down! You know this stuff! Mom and Dad have been rattling on about ghosts for years! Calm down and analyze it, don't freak out in front of a thousand people with news cameras-'_

The Fenton boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, quelling the panic rising within him.

_'Now, first question...Am I Alive?'_ As the question resounded in his mind, his parents' basic medical training kicked in and he reached around, hiding his shaking hands behind his back and touched his pulse-point on the inside of his right wrist. A wave of relief crashed over him as he confirmed that not only was his heart still beating, but blood was still pumping through his body.

Even as his parents continued their speech, Danny continued his impromptu diagnostic of his own body. _'Alright. I'm alive, that's good. Now...I can't be a Phantom because I didn't...die?'_

An errant thought, probably one of the horror movies he, Tucker, and Sam had watched, flashed through his him, the villain (some slasher move serial killer) had been shocked with a pair of emergency room paddles, blowing him across the room and apparently killing him. The heroes (like they always seemed to do in those movies) had thought he was dead, only to turn around and find the body gone.

His vision swimming before him, tones of the otherworldly seeping in as people and noise faded out, Danny reached up and touched his heart.

His beating heart.

That had been electrocuted.

And he'd gotten back up, just like the slasher villain. Only, unlike the villain, he'd been surrounded by ectoplasm. A substance, which, if his parents could be believed, bonded with disembodied souls. Souls that left the body when someone died.

When their heart stopped.

Even if it was only for a moment.

It was only through a supreme effort of will that Danny didn't drop to his knees in disbelief. _'Could that be it? Did I...die? Just...no one noticed because it happened so fast? Then I'd have been able to absorb ectoplasm like my parents say 'Phantoms' do and...'_

And what?

He'd reached the end of what his parents had researched or hypothesized. They'd only ever seen a few Poltergeists and Ghosts, never a Phantom. And even then, he wasn't a _normal _Phantom. He was alive. And he had no idea what that meant.

But it was something to worry about later.

When he wasn't being watched by a few hundred people.

"-so the result is that many paranormal phenomena exude a green-tinged light or glow, which is the result of the energy being given off by emotionally or mentally-charged ectoplasm. Of course, this is generally only true of phenomena or entities which migrate from the Ghost Zone. Those which encounter ectoplasm on this side of a portal tend to exhibit less of the standard characteristics, such as a purified form of ectoplasm which we've taken to calling Native Ectoplasm. It tends to give off a whitish or gray-white light. We've also seen evidence that other types of energy might influence ectoplasm, but our research in that venue has not show any definitive results yet." Their demonstration complete, the Fenton Probe slid back out of the Ghost Portal and solid metal doors slammed shut on the green vortex, shimmering with an ecto-protectant material that had been specially developed to block a ghost's intangibility powers.

Maddie took a deep breath and gave everyone in the crowd a broad smile, cheerfully oblivious to the fact that she and her family had casually exhibited cutting-edge technology, posited proof of the soul, established the existence of on form of afterlife, and displayed the ability to travel to and from said afterlife.

There was a long moment before the assembled reports managed to recognize that fact themselves.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Mr. Fenton! Have you thought about the implications for religious communities?!"

"Mrs. Fenton! Have you and your husband made contact with the ghosts of anyone famous?!"

"Is this technology going to be available on the market anytime soon!?"

"Have you received offers on distributing you hover technology?!"

"Have you established the existence of a God, Mr. Fenton?

And a million other questions. A billion other questions. Questions about the economy, technology, religion, the soul, wild theories and nonsense accusations, witchcraft and satanism were bandied about. In an instant, the world had gone made as questions were shouted ever-louder. Not only the reporters, but the townspeople too, people who had derided the Fentons for years, now hungered for just a few seconds of their attention.

Jazz and Danny staggered back, hit hard by the _wall of noise_ as they hid behind their parents who had, likewise, been caught off-guard by the uproar.

They had hoped to get people excited about Ghosts, but...

Didn't they see that everyone could sit down and discuss this calmly and rationally, like scientists?

As the small number of local police in attendance fought against the overwhelming crowd, calling in backup by the second, the Fentons realized that maybe, just maybe, they had underestimated the importance of their inventions as being only relevant to the field of ghost research.

Oops.

* * *

Yeah, yeah, I know I should be working on DC Phantom, but this is kind of...sort of related to it...maybe?

Okay, DC Phantom inspired this, so I guess its a spin-off or whatever. At any rate, I'm not completely sure 'where' on the site this should be placed, so I went with the umbrella 'Marvel' label so that I don't get flames for using X-men in a Danny Phantom/Iron Man Armored Adventures cross. Or Tony Stark in a DP/Spider-man cross. Geez, sometimes Marvel is just too...big, ya know?

Anyway, I'm gonna get back to college stuff!

Read & Review!

-Slayer Out

**P.S. - I am a graduate level history major. I am completely and utterly aware of how I butchered the iconography of ancient (and not-so-ancient) cultures when Danny, Sam, and Tucker were putting on costumes. Keep in mind that these are fourteen-year-old kids and they don't really care about the accuracy of their outfits so long as they 'look cool.' Egyptian ankh on a grim reaper's costume? Sure, looks awesome! Make sense? Why should that matter? Vandal Knights? No, we don't care that our band name is anachronistic and juxtaposing two antithetical cultures, why do you ask? Pop culture does this all the time, I'm just taking advantage of it for the purposes of this story.**


	2. Chapter 2

Slayer Anderson

Marvel Phantom Chapter 2

A Danny Phantom/Marvel 'Verse Crossover

04/11/2013

Chapter II – Bigger Problems

As a child, Danny Fenton had heard the phrase 'media circus' and imagined monkey reporters, elephants with video cameras as trucks, and a miniature car full of clowns all blinking the flashbulbs of their cameras. The truth, though, he was beginning to learn, was something much less pleasant than the fanciful world he had thought up in his youth. It turned out that a media circus was much like a medieval siege, wherein a hostile army sought to use whatever means available to them to crack their target like a nut. Being the target, in this case, was not the most enjoyable thing in the world.

"Three days."

"Yep," Danny nodded, his eyes focused on the small gaming device in his hands.

"Three solid days."

"Uh-huh," Danny nodded again.

"We haven't left the house in three days."

"Yeah," Danny affirmed as his character triumphed over the boss, raising the banner of the light armies and establishing world peace for millennia to come.

The victory felt hollow.

"Danny focus!" Jazz snapped, even her legendary patience wearing thin after being disallowed the ability to drive, take in a movie, visit the library, or, indeed, leave the house, for seventy-two hours and counting. "I'm going stir-crazy. We need to get out of here and _do something._"

Ironically, the normally panicky teen had retained his cool much better than Jazz.

"We can't even watch TV, Danny! _We're _on every channel! You know, I thought it might be cool to be on television one day, but this is crazy! Have you heard what they're saying about us, Danny?" Jazz ranted.

He had, and then he'd turned off the tv after flipping past FOX.

The less said about that, the better.

The word 'Fenton' was quickly becoming a byline for controversy, people were alternatively condemning their blasphemous attempt to destroy the foundation of modern Christain society, praising them for their groundbreaking work in confirmation of the eternal human soul, dismissing them as outlandish and insane frauds, and...that was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Jazz, there's nothing we can do about it," Danny sighed, trying to calm himself by tapping into the cool, icy core of energy inside him. It seemed that the 'ectoplasmic energy' or whatever it was, was actually slowly building...and that was the true source of his placid state.

If he got excited, panicked, or afraid, the energy tended to...'express itself' by turning one of his limbs intangible, invisible, or manifesting a green-blue aura. That meant he'd had to stay away from anything that got an emotional rise out of him.

_'Like the TV, where his parents were being called crazy. Or the windows, where an army of authentic crazy people were trying to get in. Or the internet...' _Shuddering, Danny took a deep breath and calmed once again, 'venting' some of the pressure that was slowly building in his...body? Mind? Soul? Like Jazz was saying, they really did need to get out of here, if only so he could blow off some steam without a chance of anyone seeing anything.

But for now, he was calm, cool, collected.

He was downright fucking _mellow._

If only because the wall of camped-out reporters which had been steadily _growing_, not shrinking, prevented him from doing anything else other than holing up in his room and figure out his little 'problem.' After spending the aforementioned seventy-two hours doing little else besides eating, sleeping, bathing, and working out his 'ghost powers,' as he had come to call them, he felt he owed himself a break.

_'Of course, I'd rather have spent the time checking up on Sam and Tucker, but we had to disconnect the line after it started ringing off the hook and someone climbed the power-line to tap our phone lines. At least Tucker was able to get me an email that Sam's doing fine...I wish I could talk to him about this whole...Phantom-thing, but by now, someone's probably watching our emails, too.'_

He wouldn't have so freaked out, save for the fact that he'd had to cover his bathroom window with duct tape after a reporter had figured out how to open the curtains from the outside using a coat hanger. After that, he had discovered an entirely new level of paranoia. "I don't know Jazz, if we could get past the mob, maybe, but..."

Because it _was _a mob.

Camping equipment had been set up, campers had been brought in, and the entire house had been placed under surveillance. Jazz scowled, "We could always use the-"

At that point, Jazz was interrupted by a jolly orange giant gallumphing down the stairs. "Dan-o! Jazzy-pants! I'm glad you're both here, it's time to do a little cleaning! We're gonna' have company!" With that, their father barreled out of the room.

Jazz and Danny exchanged looks.

Thankfully, Maddie came down the stairs after Jack. "Oh kids, good! Your father and I were in the Ops Center using the satellite communications network that your father thought was a waste of money." A hint of a smug smirk crossed her face. "Anyway, we got a call from Stark Industries and Howard Stark is going to be dropping by in an hour to talk about investing in Fenton Works! Isn't this exciting kids!"

Neither teen responded as she practically _bounced_ out of the room.

Jazz was the first to pick her jaw up off the floor, though Danny wasn't far behind. Wide-eyed, his sister looked to him, "Howard _Stark?!_ The billionaire? One of the most wealthy men _in the world?!_ Is coming _here?! To our house?!_"

"Huh," Danny commented, shocked beyond snark or wittiness.

Then a thought crossed his mind.

"I wonder how he's going to get past the mob?"

**Marvel Phantom**

As it turned out, Danny needn't have worried.

Howard Stark, as should have been expected, had a helicopter.

And the Fentons, strangely enough, had a helicopter landing pad (which Jack had proudly pointed out _Maddie _had thought a waste of money). The Stark 'copter was almost too big for the Fenton's slightly-out-of-date landing pad, which had been tacked onto the back of Fenton Works. Standing on top of the highest level of their home, Danny was dismayed to see that several news agencies had, in response to the sighting of the Stark helicopter, brought their own news 'copters to bear on the situation.

Thankfully, this meeting lacked the pomp and circumstance of the press conference, so he and Jazz had been allowed to forgo the jumpsuits.

Danny shivered and calmed himself by force of will.

Hopefully after this, the crowds would lessen and he'd be able to slip away for a bit.

There was no way he was doing anything even vaguely related to ghosts in a house literally filled with ghost hunting equipment. It was just like waiting to go to the bathroom, he could hold it until he managed to get some 'alone time.'

_'I hope,'_ he thought desperately.

As the helicopter landed, a man approximately the same age as his father stepped out. Though he was of obviously slighter build, he had much the same salt-and-pepper graying hair and a face worn with lines and creases from smiling and worrying far more than an average man. Instead of what they had expected, the man wore a set of casual, if neat and clean, clothing.

Overall, Danny didn't think this was what anyone expected Howard Stark to look like.

He was just so..._normal_.

And so were the teens that had followed him out of the 'copter. Both boys were Danny's age or within a year of it, dressed in casual t-shirts and jackets. One teen was obviously Howard Stark's son...Anthony Stark, if he remembered correctly. He had an easy, devil-may-care smile and walked with the confidence of a boy genius and their heir to a multinational billion-dollar company.

The other boy was of darker skin and hung back slightly, wary of attracting too much attention to himself as he walked in his friend's wake. He had the air of an outsider to the situation, but was so familiar with the Starks that Danny couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. After all, the Fentons had been swarmed by local media before...

...but this was ridiculous.

"The Doctors Fenton, I presume?" Mr. Stark yelled over the slowing rotor blades. "And these must be Daniel and Jasmine?" To his credit, the Stark CEO hardly blinked at the bizarre jumpsuits which the Fenton parents had donned, though the two teens behind him let their gazes linger slightly on the neon orange giant.

"That's us, Dr. Stark!" Jack boomed. "And this must be your son, Anthony and...?"

'Anthony' twitched at the mention of his full name even as he exchanged a handshake with the man. "Just Tony, sir! And this is my friend, James Rhodes!"

"-But everyone calls me Rhodey!" Tony's friend yelled as the winds finally calmed.

"Maybe we should take this meeting inside?" Maddie suggested, waving a hand towards the roof-access, eyeing the circling helicopters and the especially enterprising news reports who had camped out on their neighbors roofs.

"Probably the best idea," Howard nodded as the group descended a set of short stairs into the a room that looked less like part of the house and more akin to a ship's bridge.

"Wow, is this what I think it is?" Tony asked, spinning to take this entire view in. The windows had been shuttered in favor of the hooplah, but the room's purpose was obvious.

Howard smiled as Tony took in the surroundings. "Tony, why don't you and Rhodey let Daniel and Jasmine show you around while we old fogies talk business?"

"Just Danny and Jazz, sir," Jazz interjected, "But we can show them around the place, sure."

"Great," Howards smiled. "Doctors Fenton? Maybe we could take this discussion to your lab? I'd love to get an up-close demonstration of some of your technology."

"Sure!" Jack grinned, leading the way into the main house and down into the bowels of the structure, where he and his wife committed SCIENCE against nature.

For a moment, all was quiet as the four teens stared at each other somewhat awkwardly. Finally Tony broke the silence, "Great, dad's gonna get a head start. I told you this was going to happen, Rhodey."

Rhodey rolled his eyes, "You'll have to forgive Tony, he gets a little...obsessed about new tech and your family's made some big waves in the egghead circles."

Danny snorted and Jazz smiled at Tony's affronted look, "This is exciting stuff Rhodey! The Fentons _punched a whole into another world_, who in their right mind wouldn't be excited?"

Jazz shook her head, "When he says it, I suppose it does sound exciting. Still, it gets kind of...dull after the fifth time or so."

Tony and Rhodey stared.

"What?" Danny asked, defensive. "Every now and then one of our parents' inventions goes really wonky and we end up...somewhere else. I'm pretty sure I still have that Marilyn Manson Gospel CD somewhere."

Tony and Rhodey continued staring.

"And let's not even get started on British World," Jazz shuddered.

"British World," Rhodey managed, weakly. "British World?"

"When I was...six? Seven?" Danny answered, his gaze distant. "I think, anyway, mom and dad apparently moved the house into a world where America was still a British colony, or something. I'm pretty sure there's this painting of King George and George Washington shaking hands in one of our storage lockers."

"And...your parents never told anyone about it?" Tony finally asked, his mind whirling with the implications.

"It wasn't anything important," Jazz shook her head, "I mean, they didn't even have computers or anything and, like we said, our parents do stuff like this on a regular basis."

Rhodey could barely contain his snickering as Tony looked like he was about to burst in scientific indignation. "What do you mean it isn't important?! Your parents proved the Theory of Many Worlds! That revolutionizes how science views the universe-_universes!_ Do you have any idea of how much scientific progress could be made if we found a world with its Einstein still alive and gave him our modern technology? What if there's a world that's already established contact with aliens? Or has FTL? The possibilities are _literally _limitless!"

"Is he always like this?" Jazz asked Rhodey as Tony spiraled into a long-winded speech about multiverse constants and...stuff, Danny nodding appropriately in all the right places.

"Not usually," Rhodey admitted. "It's just when everything he think he knows about science turns out to be wrong and he has to rewrite a few laws of physics." Here he paused. "Of course, between him and his dad, that happens about once every six months or so. He was overdue, come to think of it, so don't feel too bad."

Both turned as they heard Tony exclaim, wildly waving his arms.

"Although this is a little worse than usual, yes," Rhodey nodded finally.

"-and don't even get me started on the possibilities this opens up for energy generation and tapping natural resources!" Tony finished, breathing hard.

Danny twitched, his eyes wide, as he contemplated Tony Stark. He seemed to be just as devoted to _science_ as his parents, though...he appeared a bit more mentally stable, if he was honest with himself. "Should we get started with that tour, then?"

Tony deflated. "Sure, lead the way."

"Hey Tony! What did you mean when you asked about this place, anyway? What's so special about this room?" Rhodey asked, eager to get his friend away from the topic of multiple dimensions before he and the Fentons punched _another _hole through the fabric of time and space.

He'd probably do it with a toaster, too, just to prove he could.

"This is the Fenton Ops-Center," Jazz explained. "It's not actually a room so much as the main compartment of a dirigible-slash-jet. There's an inflatable gas bag above us and the switch is behind the emergency ham."

Rhodey looked like he was going to ask for a moment, before he shook his head, muttering 'emergency ham' under his breath and resigning himself to the weirdness.

"In the event of a ghost-related emergency," Danny stated, his voice droning into his parents' lectures on 'ghost safety,' "Fenton Works enters lock down. If security is breached after that, we make our way up here and detach the Ops-Center, which will serve as an emergency escape vehicle."

"Ghost-Related Emergency," Tony noted, looking over the control panels before turning to the exit. "Is everything your parents do related to ghosts?" Tony's question had a hint of understanding to it, as if it had just dawned on him that the Fentons' scientific curiosity had focused so laser-tight that anything beyond the realm of 'Ghost' was considered extraneous research.

"Yes," Danny and Jazz deadpanned at the same time.

"And those are the only 'important' experiments to them, right?" Tony affirmed.

"Yep," Danny nodded.

Tony nodded slowly as well. It made sense, he supposed, in a twisted and strange way. He'd seen bits and pieces of it himself, during the now-infamous press conference. The Fentons had acted dismissive of anything that wasn't related to their ghost research and even minimized their hover technology, which was decades ahead of anything outside their labs. The Fetons were amazing researchers, inventors, engineers, and more...

But they weren't businessmen.

They hadn't gone into ghost-researching for money, they'd gone into it because it was their passion, their life. Much like their parents, the Fenton children were so acclimated to being geniuses (probably, at least – Tony had yet to see real proof, but he had an inkling that neither Jazz nor Danny were merely 'average'), living with geniuses, and the advanced technology that came with it, that they weren't really conscious of what the rest of the world considered 'advanced.'

It was something he shared with the Fenton children, albeit to a lesser extent. Sometime he had trouble remembering that the rest of the world wasn't quite up to the Stark's near-automated household where he and his father discussed the latest in quantum physics over the dinner table.

As they passed by the bedrooms, Tony took the time to ask a question he'd been pondering.

"So, Danny, do you and Jazz work in your parents lab much?" Tony queried, trying to sound nonchalant. Rhodey rolled his eyes discretely, but didn't comment.

"A little, now and then," Danny shrugged. "They want us to know about the lab so that we can inherit it eventually."

"Even if we don't have any interest in ghost hunting," Jazz groused.

"Hunting?" Rhodey asked, catching the word. "I thought they were researchers?"

"They are," Danny nodded, "but the Fentons have always been ghost hunters, first and foremost. If you listen to my dad, we've been hunting ghosts since the Salem days. There was actually a Fenton at some of the Witch Trials validating or contradicting the Spectral Evidence."

Rhodey's eyes went wide, "You're kidding? Are you sure?"

This time Jazz signaled the affirmative. "Yeah, I did a family history project a few years ago. We actually still have a few of the clerk's manuscripts and our ancestor's notes on the proceedings. Dad only likes to bring up the Salem Witch Trials, because that ancestor apparently fought a very powerful ghost using nothing but Blood Blossoms."

"Blood Blossoms?" Tony asked.

"A type of flower that was said to be able to deflect spiritual entities," Jazz explained. "We even have a few bushes growing in the back yard in honor of our ancestor. Dad calls it the first instance of 'modern ghost hunting without all of that dark-age mumbo jumbo.'"

"Magic, you mean?" Rhodey asked, intrigued.

"Magic," Tony nearly spat. "I think I agree with your father on that matter. Magic is just archaic superstition. If these Blood Blossoms do have scientifically-tested properties which inhibit ghosts- and I can't believe I have to take paranormal research seriously now- then you're father is correct in that statement."

Rhodey rolled his eyes again, his friend could be so high-handed at times.

"But," Jazz interjected, "our family actually goes back a lot further, though our father doesn't like to admit it. I was kind of surprised when I followed our family tree back to Europe."

"Related to royalty?" Tony asked, wearing an easy smirk.

"Nope," Danny grinned, watching as Tony's smirk fell.

"C'mon, don't keep us waiting," Rhodey nearly begged.

Tony snorted. "History is one of Rhodey's favorite subjects."

"Well," Jazz considered, "No Fenton has ever been royalty, but pretty much every Fenton has been a member of a Royal Court during their lifetime."

"Alchemists, Soothsayers, Tarot Readers, Spiritual Advisers, Exorcists-"

"Exorcists_?!_" Both Tony and Rhodey cried at the same time. A little more dignified, Rhodey continued, "As in 'an old priest and a young priest'-exorcists? The Catholic Church?"

"If you go back far enough, right Jazz?" Danny asked.

"The Fentons were intermittently Catholic back to the early dark ages. I found an online catalog of Charlemagne's surviving records which mentions Gregori Fentinali, who was part of the group sent to oversee his conversion to Christianity. He was there to ensure that 'malign spirits did not interfere with the ascension of a good and noble king to the good graces of our lord.'"

"That's amazing," Rhodey whispered, then frowned. "What did you mean by 'intermittently Catholic?'"

"Well," and here Jazz frowned. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. There seems to have been one of our family in the Church on and off for several hundred years, but there were others that...well..."

"We evidently had quite a few black sheep, is what Jazz means," Danny explained grimly. "Demonologists, Summoners, Necromancers, someone I'd swear was related to Dr. Frankenstein, and...others."

Both Fenton siblings shivered.

"We've had a...colorful family history," Jazz stated.

"Sounds like it," Rhodey nodded.

"And this is the living room," Danny instructed, "The terrible den of iniquity which lays host to the demonic Fenton family."

Tony snorted, collapsing on the couch. "My grandfather helped develop the A-bomb during WWII. My great-grandfather sold machine guns to the Germans, French, Italians, Hungarians, British, Russians, and Americans. As far as I'm concerned my father's the only decent member of my family, so don't feel like you've got anything to be ashamed of."

"How far back _does_ your family go, anyway?" Rhodey asked.

"No idea," Jazz answered sourly. "Before Charlemagne, records in Europe are a spotty at best...I'm not even sure I have a complete picture of our family _after _Charlemagne. The only place I could get records from before A.D. 750 would be the Catholic Church, which I tried."

"You tried to get records from the _Vatican Archives_ for a _school project?!_" Tony asked, his jaw dropping slightly.

"Jazz is what you might call an over-achiever," Danny deadpanned.

Jazz huffed. "And all I got back was a very firmly worded letter saying that all records regarding my family held in trust by the archives are apparently sealed."

Tony blinked, "Well...that doesn't sound ominous at all, does it?"

Rhodey eyebrows rose. "That is weird. I've never heard of anything like that happening...I mean, the Vatican refuses requests for records all the time, but the fact that they refused you outright means that they probably _do _have something on your family. That means your family was probably really important...especially if they 'sealed' the documents."

"Wow," Tony whistled. "I can't decide whether that's really cool, really weird, or really, _really_ bad."

"What we said," Danny grinned.

"Well," Rhodey sighed, "we've toured the house, exposed dark family secrets – apart from my family, because I'm pretty sure none of us did anything horrific – and the adults are still talking business. So, who's up for going out on the town?"

"We'd have to get through _that_," Tony reminded his friend, thumbing towards the barricaded door, closed-off windows, and the low-level buzz of the crowd's noise outside.

Jazz perked up at this, "There...might be a way."

The three teenage boys turned to her, expectant.

"Really?" Danny prompted, then blinked, "Wait...you don't mean?"

"The Fenton Emergency Escape Tunnel," Jazz nodded, smiling.

Danny cocked an eyebrow. "Hmm...is this an emergency?"

"Absolutely," Jazz asserted.

"Definitely," Tony nodded.

Rhodey and Danny shared a wary glance, before slumping.

Rhodey shook his, sighing, "I better come with you, Tony without oversight does not bode well for anyone."

"You know, they even managed to save most of the carpet last time," Tony groused. "It wasn't _that _bad."

Jazz and Danny blinked, exchanging looks as Rhodey responded, "Tony, most twelve year olds can't dismantle their entire kitchen and build a working, killer robot!"

"It had a self-destruct!" Tony asserted.

"You say that like it _helps!_" Rhodey cried, palming his face.

Tony huffed, turning away from his best friend in what he would deny until his dying day was a pout. Meanwhile, Danny sent Jazz another odd look, "Are we related?"

"I don't _think so_," Jazz replied dubiously.

"Huh...are you sure?" Danny pressed.

"We are never letting you watch Terminator again," Rhodey concluded, shaking his head tiredly.

**Marvel Phantom**

"Amazing," Howard Stark concluded, shaking his head as he looked over the lab equipment. "Absolutely amazing."

"You got that right!" Jack grinned. "Our Ghost Tech is-"

"What Jack means is, 'Thank You,'" Maddie interrupted her husband. "Honestly Jack! Dr. Stark knows exactly how hard we've worked on this technology."

"Which doesn't take away your right to gloat," Howard smiled, nodding to Jack. "I can't imagine the vindication you must feel right now, Dr. Fenton...Dr. Fenton."

Maddie blushed, while Jack's grin threatened to split his face in two. "Please, call us Jack and Maddie; we've never been inclined to wave our doctorates around."

"Only if you call me Howard," Dr. Stark nodded, "but I _am _honestly amazed by what you've done here. Granted, it makes my job more difficult, but I'm excited all the same about the new frontiers of research you've legitimized."

"Your job?" Jack asked, blinking. "I thought-"

"Well," Howard hesitated, dropping onto one of the lab chairs. "Honestly, the President's science adviser called in an old marker from when we were college and asked me to do a little investigative work regarding...these 'wild claims and unsubstantiated assertions.' His words, not mine."

The last, said with an embarrassed self-deprecating frown, stalled any objections the Fentons had. Jack sighed, sinking into a chair himself even as he eyed the swirling Fenton Ghost Portal which had been lowered back into the lab via freight elevator. Resigned, he fingered his remote and slid the door of the Fenton Portal shut.

"Well Maddie, looks like another step backwards for the search for truth," Jack admitted, looking like the picture of defeat.

"Not necessarily," Howard smiled, "I'm not going to lie to anyone, or destroy anyone's reputation just because an old friend asks me to...especially over something as important as this. Your science is based in hard fact, all of your research is well-documented, and more importantly, _it works_. Now I just have to explain to a meeting of the most powerful people in the country that ghosts exist."

Maddie and Jack began to look hopeful at this.

"Oh thank you, Howard!" Maddie cried, nearly jumping for joy.

"Don't thank me yet," Howard admonished. "If I'm right, you're going to have just as much trouble as I am from this."

"Trouble," Jack gave a cynical laugh that would have had his throwing fits of disbelief towards the jolly giant. "Howard, I'm not sure being regarded as a cook, nutjob, and clown is anymore trouble than what you're talking about. My wife and I have been laughed out of any upstanding scientific community that would have us. I don't even like to think what this has done to Danny and Jazz..."

Maddie sighed, looking disappointed in herself as she pulled back her hood and slid her goggles down to hang around her neck. "...we have been selfish, haven't we, Jack? Howard...do you think we're bad parents?"

Howard paused, thinking back to what he'd seen of Jazz and Danny. "Honestly? I haven't seen enough of either of them to really know, but they seemed like perfectly well-adjusted kids from what I _have seen_. If it helps, I occasionally wonder if what I'm doing with Tony is the right thing. I mean, after his mother died, I was sure I was going to scar the kid for life or something..."

All three scientists shared a commiserating glance.

"But," Howard smiled, "I think Tony's about as down-to-earth as he can be, growing us as he did. I'm sure Jazz and Danny are practically normal by comparison...do they go to public school?"

"Yes, actually," Maddie nodded. "We didn't want them to be any more isolated from society than they already are."

"That might not be an option anymore," Howard warned. At the other parents' curious gazes, he elaborated. "You're celebrities now, Maddie, Jack, and that means your children are too. I'm not sure you've considered exactly how large of a wave you've made."

"I swear, people get excited over the littlest things!" Maddie frowned.

"Well, Mads, Ghosts (you could hear the capitalization) are always something to get excited about!" Jack grinned.

"I was actually referring to the implications your technology has on society...much less science. People are going to be in an uproar for a long time to come. This means that people are going to want a piece of both you and your kids, you might want to consider private tutoring or homeschooling," Howard advised.

"Will it really be that bad?" Maddie asked, wondering if she'd ruined her kids' lives _again_.

"Jack, Maddie..." Howard paused. "You've proved that there is a possibility of a _life after death_. I cannot begin to estimate what that means to _anyone_ of _any faith_. Really, I'd suggest bodyguards for both you and your children, security systems, and you might not want to let them out in public until this mess calms down. How is Fenton Works on resources anyway?"

"The Fenton Trust has more than enough to run the company for a century," Jack said proudly.

Howard blinked, looking between the two with a dawning dread and suspicion. "How many of your designs have made it into production this quarter? What kind of profit margins are you looking at?"

"Profit?" Maddie asked strangely. "Fenton Works is a purely research-based laboratory. We don't license our inventions."

Howard Stark felt slightly dizzy and was suddenly glad he'd been sitting at that announcement. "What?" He asked faintly.

Jack shrugged. "My family has a trust that goes back years. We get a certain percentage of the money to run the lab and pay living expenses, the rest goes back into investments. Money can get a little thin sometimes, but we make due."

Howard pressed the palms of his hands over his eyes. "Maddie, Jack...this kind of technology could help so many people...half the things I've seen here could advance mankind fifty years along the technological curve. Is there anyway I can convince you to license some of this technology?"

Jack and Maddie shared a glance, then shrugged.

"If it means that much to you Howard, sure," Maddie nodded. "I think a few thousand dollars should cover the first few months..."

Howard almost felt like crying, "The bare minimum you should accept for a license agreement on any of this is a million dollars...you know what, I think you should talk to an attorney, an expert on business law, before we start this. Do you know anyone or can I suggest the office my company uses?"

As his cellphone came out, the Fentons felt the creeping suspicion that they'd bitten off a bit more than they could chew.

**Marvel Phantom**

"Looks clear," Jazz stated, peeking out of the old storm drain.

"Your entire family is paranoid beyond reason," Tony stated, shaking his head in utter disbelief as he, Rhodey, and Danny stepped out from the large, slightly damp, tube.

"You're just jealous that you and your dad don't have an emergency escape tunnel," Rhodey sniped back.

Tony frowned, though he refused to say more on the matter.

"Well, this is only the second time we've ever used it," Danny shrugged. "I mean, there was the-"

"-we don't talk about that," Jazz cut him off.

"What-" Rhodey and Tony began.

"Thanksgiving dinner," Jazz replied bluntly, her eye twitching. "Don't. Ask."

Tony, unable to resist, began to open his mouth.

"Ever." Jazz affirmed.

Amazing, Tony's common sense asserted itself and the subject was dropped. "So...where to now?"

"I'm going to check on Sam," Danny decided. At Tony and Rhodey's inquiring glances, Tony elaborated, "She's my friend, but was injured a few days ago. Tucker, my other friend, sent me an email that said they were keeping her under observation for a few days. With any luck, I'll manage to catch up with both of them."

"Good luck with that," Tony dismissed. "I think Rhodey and I'll catch a movie or something. It's been a while since I've been out of the lab, anyway."

"Probably why your dad dragged you out here," Rhodey rolled his eyes, then looked back to Danny as his friend was walking away. "Sorry about that, Tony has...issues with hospitals, he didn't mean to be-"

Danny cut him off, "Don't worry, Tucker freaks around hospitals too. If Sam wasn't hurt he wouldn't be caught dead in one."

Rhodey snorted. "Well, we'll see you later, alright? When the movie is over, I'll drag Tony back to you house through the escape tunnel. Hopefully Tony's dad and your parents will be done with the science talk by then."

As Tony and Rhodey walked off, Jazz turned to her younger brother.

"You didn't tell me Sam got hurt."

Danny looked away. "You remember how mom and dad said it was okay to go to that concert a few days back?"

Jazz nodded.

"It was in a warehouse club," Danny explained, his fists clenching. "Long story short, the music got too loud or there were too many people and...Sam got his on the head by a rock or something. Tucker and I took her to the hospital, but...I didn't want to tell mom and dad-"

"-because they'd freak out," Jazz finished, sighing and scratching her head.

"Yeah."

The redheaded sibling grimaced. "Well, I can't say I _like _the fact that you didn't tell mom and dad, but since you didn't get hurt (you didn't, right?), then I won't say anything. Mom and dad _do _tend to worry too much and if you end up with a curfew, I'll probably get the same."

"Thanks, Jazz," Danny smiled.

"No problem, little bro," Jazz grinned. "Now, I've got a date with the library, say hi to Sam for me and tell her I hope she feels better."

"Will do," Danny nodded, moving off down the sunny street in the opposite direction from Jazz. All around him, Amity Park seemed busier than usual and, as he passed a television blaring the now-infamous interview from within an electronics store window, Danny was suddenly glad he'd had the presence of mind to switch clothes (a suggestion from Tony on 'Laying Low: A Celebrities' Guide to Going Unnoticed') into something that wasn't his usual style.

A pair of his dad's old reading glasses, lenses knocked out.

Tan cargo pants left over from the ill-fated Fenton Family Hiking Vacation.

A Hawaiian shirt he'd dug out from some dark corner of his closet that had been a birthday present from mom's cousin last year, which he'd never worn.

And a black baseball cap to top it all off.

_'I probably look like a fashion disaster,'_ Danny thought wryly, _'but I definitely don't look like Daniel Fenton.'_ As he looked around, people were going about their business, completely unaware that one of the infamous Fentons was in their midst. Danny had to admit, it was nice to not have those shifty, slightly afraid glances flicked at you ever time you walked down a street. _'I'll have to thank Tony for the advice...what was it he said? Don't try to hide, that only attracts attention? Yeah, I'm just a normal not-Fenton going about their everyday life. Nothing to see here...'_

Danny clearly didn't understand Murphy's Law.

Cocking his head as he walked down the street, Danny cocked his head as he heard yelling. Not the panicked cries of an impending disaster, but similar to those he'd heard on political rallies when flipping channels. Intrigued, he wandered closer...

...and almost immediately wished he hadn't.

"-And I ask you, is this the type of world you want to live in?!"

A resounding _NO!_ nearly caused the teen to stumble as he rounded a corner and merged with a crowd of people standing before an impromptu stage which had been set up in front of city hall. Around him, groups of people waved signs with various slogans plastered across them, banners were strung up, and a man was almost screaming into a microphone as he preached from on top of the stage. The word 'preached' immediately came to mind because of the man's clothing: ambiguously Christian complete with the Bible to 'thump' as he made various points.

"These _people_," he nearly spat the word, "have summoned up a portal to hell itself! They have consorted with demons and evil spirits! They have violated the holy covenant of God and mankind!"

Anger began to well up in Danny, his fists clenching tightly as the 'preacher' began to gesture to two distorted and twisted caricatures of his parents. _'Who did these people think they were? What right did they have to insult his parents like this?! They'd worked hard to do what everyone else had thought impossible!'_

A murmuring agreement arose in the crowd, various people calling out 'amen' and 'tell it brother.' "We have sat quietly as these corruptive influences have infected our great, Christian, nation! But these Satanists and Devil-worshipers go too far!"

Another chorus of 'Hallelujahs' and 'amen.'

Danny's eye started to twitch as he felt the now-familiar rise of deathly-cold energy creep up from inside him. Panic raced along his veins as he fought to keep control. Tony's appearance had done wonders in distracting Danny from his worries, though now he was paying for his inattention to his emotional state.

_'I need to get out of here,'_ Danny thought desperately.

"-and your government does nothing! It is the responsibility of the people! The good and faithful of our once-proud land! To rise up and throw out these black wizards and dark priests who dare to defile your homes and families with fallen souls!"

_'Stay calm Danny, be cool. Just slip away and deal with this, it's nothing big. I should get out of here anyway, this is probably the last place I want to be...'_ Danny thought quickly, trying to suppress his rising heartbeat.

Danny didn't know how it happened; one moment he was edging out of the crowd, careful step by careful step, focusing on breathing deeply and calmly. The next...maybe it was an exclamation from the crowd, maybe someone had bumped him in just the right way, maybe the man shouting on the stage had spat something particularly insulting...

Whatever it was, the next moment, he'd _looked up_.

The 'preacher' was looking right at him, watching _him_, from where he'd stepped out of the crowd. Their eyes met, and Danny could feel some sort of recognition set in...there was something in the man's eyes, a terrible knowledge that-

_Heknows! Heknowsheknowsheknowsheknowsheknowsheknows!_

The man's arm was already coming up, ready to point him out, ready to issue the mob-not a crowd now, a _mob_-an order. Danny didn't need to hear it, didn't need to know that he knew, because Danny was already running. Some deep, ancient part of his hind-brain had called out a warning, triggered the flight or fight response...

...as if there was a choice.

"There is the infidel's spawn! The heathen son! Seize him my good people!"

_'Good call there, brain!' _Danny congratulated himself, even as he heard the beginnings of a stampede behind him. The rest of his thought pattern was a long, painful string of curses and profanities as he used the most important lesson Dash Baxter had ever taught him.

When someone's chasing you?

You _run._

Those of you who have never been chased by anyone or anything, there is a great difference in running and _running from something_. There is something in the brain that upshifts, takes the mind to a higher level of awareness, something which the least-athletic student of Casper High took advantage of at that moment, taking a flying leap over the roadblocks set to detour traffic around the public rally.

Danny cut into moving traffic, dodging two speeding cars by near misses that would have had his mother growing gray hairs.

He ran on sidewalks, pushing past people and barreling through groups of his erstwhile classmates.

He ducked down every alleyway and shortcut he'd used to dodge Dash, slipping past groups of pursuers, doubling back, and using piles of trash to take fences in single bounds.

Still, much like a pack of wolves to a wounded animal, they gave Danny no quarter. Every time someone spotted him, the chase was on again, running him to ground. He'd run farther, faster, than he ever had in his life, but eventually, like all good things, his escape attempts had come to and end. His panicked mind, starved for time to think, had made a grave error, picking out an alleyway that ran behind a restaurant and abutted the warehouse district, an aging relic of Amity Park's industrial past now lying, rusting, just as the rest of the steel belt was.

The important part, though, was that it was a dead end.

For a moment, Danny stood, staring at the brick wall slathered in graffiti in disbelief, before he heard the voice.

"He went in there!"

Cursing under his breath, Danny ducked, throwing himself against a wall and diving between the rear wall of a warehouse and the dumpster of the restaurant. Rancid Chinese food nearly made him gag, the cloying, choking smell causing bile to rise in his throat.

"I don't see him!"

_'Please leave! Just leave! Please!'_ Danny begged silently, willing his wheezing, gasping breath to slow.

"He must have gone the other-"

"No!"

Danny's heart caught in his throat, hearing the 'preacher's' voice.

"No! He's here, brothers and sisters...he's here. Isn't that right, boy? Come now, speak up!"

Fear clenched tight around Danny's throat and, in that moment, he didn't know if he _could _speak up, even if he had wanted to. There was something almost..._radiating_ from the direction of the man, something hot and acidic...a kind of turbulent cloud that was heavy, _bleak, _**_hateful_**...another shiver went through him.

Hateful.

A vision of Sam's 'contagious excitement' flickered over his mind's eye.

Danny swallowed thickly, his focus withering as he tried to hold back the panic, tried to hold back the _chill_-

The 'priest's' voice brought him back to reality.

"Now, now boy, I can hear you...smell your fear even. We're here to help you, boy...Daniel, you aren't beyond saving yet! Your parents, the blasphemers, are lost to use, but you can still be saved from the pits of damnation! My name is Ezekiel Priest, Daniel...do you know what my name means?"

Danny didn't care, wouldn't ever care, all he wanted was for this nutjob to leave-

"It means 'God Strengthens,'" the man's voice was closer now, further down the alleyway. "And He does, Daniel...He Strengthens me greatly. We must all serve the purpose our name gives us...do you know yours?"

Another step, ancient deposits of greasy Chinese food _smacking_ as he lifted his foot made it easy to mark his progress, even thought Danny couldn't see him.

"It means, 'God is my Judge.' It is a great name, symbolizing the need for man to surrender himself to the judgment of Our Lord," another _smack_, the sound of the sticky, disgusting reservoir coating the ground speeding Danny's heart further.

"And you-"

_beat_

"-must-"

_beat_

"-surrender yourself!"

At the exclamation, Ezekiel Priest rounded the dumpster, his zealous eyes setting their fiery gaze on-

-_nothing._

**Marvel Phantom**

It had been as though the world was made of shadow. People stood out like flickering motes of darkness against a background of mist. Buildings were nothing but hazy outlines, only vaguely there like clouds of particularly thick smoke. He hadn't been thinking when he'd reached past-_through_-the girder trapping Sam, when he'd fallen through his own bedroom wall...

Between one heartbeat and the next, it had happened.

First, he was solid, thick, heavy, _alive_...

And then he wasn't.

There was no air in his lungs, blood didn't flow through his veins, his heart didn't beat. The world had lost color and meaning, warmth retreating from his flesh, the chill of the grave creeping over his flesh. For a second's breadth, he couldn't _think_, couldn't _feel_, couldn't-

And then it was over.

He was on his knees, gasping like a drowning man and shivering as though he'd been dunked in arctic waters. There was a thick layer of dust on the ground and, distantly, he realized he must be practically rolling in it, but the comparative warmth of the cool concrete was nearly ambrosia to his freezing skin at the moment.

A frustrated cry echoed into the empty surroundings, the quieter sounds of ferocious orders being given following, before the sounds suddenly dropped off completely.

Danny's gasping, wheezing breathing-part from cold and part from exhaustion-came in juts and spurts. In a moment of clarity, he realized that he was _laughing_, the sounds starting and stopping as he tried desperately to get enough air. Honestly, the teen couldn't say exactly how long he spent on the floor of that warehouse, rolling in dust, as his hysterical laughter rang through the building, before he finally quieted, breathing deeply from where he lay spread-eagle, uncaring of the filth that covered him.

"I can't believe I'm alive."

The thought almost managed to set off another round of hysterical laughter, but Danny contained himself. Slowly, the teen sat up, grimacing as his sore muscles protested. Running that much had been far more exercise than he was used to, but the alternative...

_'Jogging. I should take up jogging,'_ Danny thought firmly, unsure if he'd ever need to run for his life again, but resolved to be prepared to do so, should the occasion arise.

Of course, it hadn't been running that had saved his life.

That thought sobered the teen, his head shaking in disbelief as he stared at his hands with a combination of fear and...exhilaration. A shiver of excitement ran up his spine at the thought of what he'd just done, mixing with the horror and fear of what his actions implied. Danny took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to prepare himself to do what he'd been putting off for the last three days. Until now, he'd been containing the problem.

Now the 'problem' had saved his life.

And he could either live in fear of the building energy inside of him...

...or confront it.

Maybe it was a little silly, but after these...abilities had just saved his life, it felt like he was disregarding them, almost being,well...rude? It was absurd, but...he felt like he was punishing part of himself for a thing that it had no control over. Like he was...rejecting a part of himself.

He shook his head, clearing the strange thoughts and steeling himself. If he didn't do it now, he'd keep putting it off, being afraid of himself. He too a final, deep breath, and concentrated on the cold well of energy within him.

He looked inside.

Cold fire seared his veins, lancing through his nerves, devouring rational thought. Danny bit back a gasp, only to find that his lungs wouldn't expand. For a terrifying moment, his mind stalled and his throat seized as he attempted to force in air, then the sensation of the creeping chill began to seep bone-deep into his body.

And he _saw_-

He was very small, watching Jazz as she played with dolls, something she hadn't done in years...

_It was cold_.

His sister was holding him as they left the room with their screaming parents, the Christmas tree on fire...

_He couldn't breathe_.

His mother's voice, singing a lullaby...

_The world was too bright, painfully bright_.

His father was holding up fingers, a math worksheet spread out in front of them, two ghosts plus two ghosts...

_Why can't I hear anything?_

He was pushed, a blonde boy towering over him in the school yard even as he realized what it meant to be a 'Fenton.'

_Am I dying?_

A little girl, dressed in all black with a sour grimace on her face, Danny's cheeks flushed.

_I thought dying would hurt._

Running from the bullies, he realized there was someone next to him...dark skin, a cell phone in second grade...his first friend.

_Stop, stop it! Stopit! Stopitstopitstopitstopit!_

And he was back on the floor of the warehouse, resting on his hands and knees. He felt as though he'd run a marathon and had a year's worth of math crammed into his brain, exhausted in more ways than he'd ever thought existed. Something deep inside that he'd never even been _aware of_ ached with a kind soreness that was frightening alien in nature.

On the other hand, though, as tired as he was...

He also wasn't.

Danny stood up, his muscles tightening without protest as he looked at his hands in shock. Where bare flesh had been, there was now a series of overlapping metal plates, stained a stark black climbing up his arms that seemed to drink in the light itself.

His eyes dropped lower.

A white...tunic? His pants and boots were white too, though more of that strange metal had been plastered to his shins...a creeping suspicion began to loom in his mind as his hand-_gauntlets_ brushed away the thick white fabric of a long cloak that reached down to his feet, mentally taking note of the Eye of Horus plainly apparent on his right hand, a brilliant alabaster against the black armor.

He shook his head, eyes searching his surroundings for a piece of glass or shiny metal...something reflective...

Curiously, there was now a faint shimmer of hoarfrost on the ground, delicate patterns of loops and swirls leading away from where he stood, like a giant snowflake.

Ice...cold...

Danny's shiver had nothing to do with any physical chill as he lifted a metal-and-leather clad hand up to his face, touching his cheek. Relief washed across him as he felt the pressure of touch on his face-and was promptly crushed by disbelief as he caught sight of himself in a panel of dirty glass that had been leaning up against a stack of crates.

He was wearing his costume.

Except, it was like...someone had switched all the colors. Black was white, metal had stained black...even the silver clasp of his cloak was now as dark as pitch...and his clothes weren't the only change.

His eyes-_his glowing eyes_-were a hypnotic emerald.

And his black hair...was snow white, the brightest, purest, newly-fallen snow he'd ever seen.

Even the ankh, the cheap temporary tattoo Sam had pasted on his cheek was still there, though it had bleached to a dull silver...as if actual metal had merged with his skin. Everything was here...his entire costume, well...except for the scythe, but that had gotten destroyed in the-

As if summoned by the errant thought (and Danny shied away from that concept, it was the last thing he needed right now in his delicate mental state), a twisting spike of dark ectoplasm erupted from his hand, the black energy coalescing into a curved and deformed pole with a wickedly sharp jut of metal forming at the apex.

"...nope, scythe's still here," Danny commented to himself hysterically, unable to keep himself from wincing as his voice warbled slightly, a strange otherworldly tone creeping in. A bizarre thought occurred, and he caught himself thinking, _'how can I be talking if I'm not breathing...'_

A metal-clad hand reached up to touch his chest now, noting the lack of a comforting rise and fall to his torso, a signal that no air was being pumped in and _oh god, hisheartwasn't__**beating!**_

He froze, supernaturally still with shock, watching the thing in the glass as it mimicked him.

It was preternaturally motionless, that _thing_ in the mirror, like a mannequin...

The image in the glass...

_Me, that's me..._

There was fear obvious in his gaze, the kind of terror he'd only seen in bad horror movies. An incredible, deep, blinding fear that ate at conscious thought and burned away sanity-

The scythe dropped towards the floor, vanishing in a cloud of murky black ectoplasm before it made contact with the concrete.

It was too much.

_'I can't, not now...I-I just, I've got to talk to Tucker! But-'_

He looked back to the alien appearance reflected in the glass, the ragged edges of his mind readily apparent in the quivering and shifting of his expression.

_'Not like this, I want to be normal, I __**need**__ to be normal! I can't deal with this now, just-'_

Before his eyes, his form began to dissolve away, motes of light detaching themselves and fading into nothing as his cloak disappeared, then the sleeveless coat he'd been wearing under it, then the tunic, pants, and boots. Finally, as if an afterthought, the 'white' shed from his hair like a bad case of dandruff, the 'green' likewise dropping out of his eyes like dry tears.

And then Danny Fenton was standing there in the darkened warehouse, staring into a dirty pane of glass.

Just Danny Fenton, no ethereal glow, no electric-green eyes, no metallic gray tattoo...

Every shred of his..._other form_ had vanished like mist in the harsh light of dawn.

_'Yeah, maybe graveyard mist,'_ Danny thought with a shiver, attempting to push his mind past what that 'form' represented. _'But, at least the um...transformation-' _Here the teen winced, unable to think of another way to phrase the events of the past few minutes, _'at least it has a few perks.'_

Indeed, he'd at least noticed his clothing had been horrifically filthy before his 'change,' now, though, while not exactly clean, it didn't look like he'd been rolling in muck all day. Much of what he was wearing was still wrinkled and slightly sweaty from his run, but the top layer of dirt seemed to have been lifted off, as if by magic...

_'Now, I just need to get out of here,'_ Danny thought, his breathing(something he'd never thought he'd be _able to miss_) evening out. The warehouse was obviously in disuse, though it seemed to be of sturdy construction, no matter how long it'd been left to rot.

Crates were stacked up, filled with...whatever someone filled disused warehouses with, but all of the windows were set high in the brick walls, and though a few were cracked here and there, they were all more or less in tact. Walking quietly through the building (and wincing as his footsteps echoed loudly in the unpopulated void), Danny quickly came to the front door, chained with heavy loops of steel and, presumably, an aging lock on the outside.

Pulling at the chain quickly proving futile, Danny sighed and collapsed against the door, "Great, locked...and this is why I keep telling my parents I need a cell phone."

Snorting, he stared up at the windows. It seemed like a short eternity since 'the chase' had begun, but in all likelihood it had only been thirty minutes, and thus it was still early afternoon. Checking his watch, Danny affirmed that he'd still be in school if it weren't summer vacation. "Although, I can just see how that conversation would go...'Hey mom, come pick me up?'"

He affected a falsetto tone, "Sure, honey, where are you?"

"Well," Danny replied in his normal voice, holding an enrapturing conversation with himself. "After Jazz and I sneaked out of the house, I got chased around town by a religious nutjob. Now I'm locked in a warehouse downtown?"

Danny mimed listening to the phone for a moment, then responded to the imagined words, "Well, gee mom, now that you mention it, no, I can't explain how I got into a locked warehouse without breaking in."

Danny groaned, "Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well."

The teen let his head thump noisily against the door.

"So how do I get out of here?" Danny eventually asked the disused warehouse, not remotely expecting an answer.

_"How about the same way you got in?"_

Danny gave a manly cry (it certainly wasn't a scream or yelp) and jumped away from the direction the voice had come-

The teen's sharp blue eyes widened, his vision bleeding with shadows and darkness and graveyard mist as a whitish figure appeared, sheathed in a blue-gray cloud which clung to him as he moved. Not walked, Danny noticed, but _moved_, gliding along as his feet did not touch the ground. He wore a dark pair of coveralls with even darker stains blooming across them, the blotches of color darkening to blue material to a deep purple, almost black.

Boxes rattled as he moved, the building reverberating with the sound of knocking and rattling as scraps of wood began to roll about on their own.

An out-of-date worker's jacket adorned his torso, nearly covering the lighter undershirt beneath. All in all, he looked like someone displace by several decades, though ambiguously so. Even with Danny's weak grasp of history, he couldn't get a solid handle on when, exactly, this..._thing_, this inhuman thing was from.

"What?" Danny managed to croak, unable to believe his eyes.

_"The way you got in, boyo,"_ The ephemeral figure tipped his had, something which had been in style before the second world war, and continued speaking in that odd alien warble of a voice. Like a dead man's dying moan. _"Didn't matter if I was asleep or not...you're a hell of a strong one..."_

Now that he was closer, Danny noticed that his feet were indeed moving, though he was right in his assertion that they didn't touch the ground. Danny shook his head, chastising his mind for seizing on that odd facet of...whatever it was. The thing's eyes, deep black things, locked onto his own as Danny was almost compelled to respond. "I-I don't understand."

_"And a weird one, too," _The thing commented, his voice curious. _"I ain't never seen the like of you, boyo. What exactly are ya?"_

Danny snorted, "I c-could ask the same."

_"Fair 'nough," _The creature nodded. _"Name's Jack, if it helps. Jack Pyxis."_

"Danny Fenton," Danny responded, shivering at the surreality of the situation. "What did you mean earlier...by how I 'got in?'"

It fixed a slightly incredulous gaze on Danny, _"You should know, boyo, you're who did it. Just step through that door...ain't no more solid than water to ones what are like us."_

"Like us," Danny said faintly.

_"More o' less," _Jack agreed, _"Albeit, ya' got one of those thumpers still whackin' away in your chest. How's that workin' out for ya?"_

It took Danny a moment to realize it was talking about his heart...which meant, his (not _his, its_, no being friendly with the thing) wasn't. Which meant...

"You're...a ghost," Danny whispered with finality.

_"That's the word you wanna' use, sure lad,"_ The ghost shrugged. _"Cain't imagine why's so shocking, though, but you are an odd one. Now, don't mean to be rude or nuthin' but...ya' did wake me up, boyo..."_

"Oh...yeah," Danny nodded, swallowing. "Sorry."

_"Tis fine, lad, though I'd like to get back to it, ya get my drift."_ He shrugged, turning. _"I'm thinking ya can show yerself out?"_

"Yeah," Danny muttered, "Piece of cake-"

He was alone again.

The knocking and rattling had quieted, debris settling down as if it hadn't been moving on its own just a moment ago. Danny shook his head and concentrated. He wasn't looking forward to touching that chilly core of power, but...

A tingling sensation swept over his arm, shadows and graveyard mist dancing across his vision...

**Marvel Phantom**

"Hey Tuck."

Dark eyelids snapped open from their resting position, flicking over to the person who had spoken. Looking nothing like Danny Fenton, the teen in question stood before him briefly, collapsing into a chair at short notice.

"Danny!"

A chorus of shushes ran through the immediate area.

His friend looked..._worn_, tired, in a way that he hadn't believed was possible, dark rings under his eyes and a pallid tint to his skin that Tucker was sure wasn't healthy. "How's Sam?"

Tucker's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment.

"How's _Sam_?" Tucker whispered harshly. "How are _you_, dude? I haven't been able to get near your front door with that mess around your house...how'd you get out?"

"Fenton Emergency Escape Tunnel," Danny shrugged tiredly.

"Oh," Tucker finished lamely, quieting for a moment.

"How is Sam, Tucker?" Danny asked, his voice small as his eyes drifted closed.

"...She's fine," Tucker answered. "She just...there was a little swelling in her brain and...a little memory loss-nothing big, just the past week or so!"

Danny, who had nearly panicked, calmed again. "So she...doesn't remember? About what happened, I mean?"

Tucker didn't need to ask what his friend was talking about. The beret-clad teen sighed, "No...Danny? What _did_ happen?"

Danny mumbled something too quiet for Tucker to hear.

"Huh?" Tucker asked.

"I said...'I have ghost powers,'" Danny explained quietly.

"Oh," Tucker repeated.

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Danny nodded.

"What's with the clothes?" Tucker found himself asking, doing what he did best, filling the silence.

"I got disguise advice from Tony Stark, but a psycho religious nut saw through it and chased me around town," Danny explained.

"Oh," Tucker repeated yet again, then stopped, blinking for a few long moments. "Wait. What!?"

Another round of shushes erupted from the nurse's station.

"Yep," Danny nodded, "Oh, and I think I met a Poltergeist."

Tucker's mouth worked silently as his brain tried to reboot.

* * *

Yeah, at this point, everyone's probably going, "OMG! Where R my canon?!"

Sorry, but DP canon met my Cannon (guess which won). Okay, now...things I'm probably going to get yelled at about...Fenton Family History. Yes, I'm making this all up as I go along. No, I'm not hinting at possibly future story lines that will have a major impact on things to come. No, I don't wish sarcasm would translate better to the written word. Hmm...as to all those people who think I'm an incompetent who doesn't know what he's doing...why are you still here after chapter one? Ezekiel Priest is a complete and utter OC, any resemblance to any other character in Marvel is completely by chance and fan response will determine whether he's a one-off minor villain or whether he becomes a major issue later.

In other news...I really should be making progress on my papers (cries in a corner), but I'm not. Holy crap this story is addictive to write (either that or I'm procrastinating like nobody's business).

I suppose the appeal of writing this, for me at least, is the fact that I can get off the beaten path really quickly and express a good bit of originality. DC Phantom, as a rewrite, feels a lot more like...well, stuff I've already written (gee, I wonder why?), which is why it's so much slower going.

At any rate, Danny's going to take a little while to get to the hero-ing (if he does, who knows, I might make him a villain, hah!), because I am taking my sweet time with the plot. Even by the time things get to...a point (no spoilers), it will be another month (in story, at least), before the 'plot' really gets going (translation - Plot = whatever I feel like at the time).

Now...back to working on my papers? Hmm...I've got another week left, at least. Man, at this rate my Saturday is going to suck really hard.

Eh, that's for Future-Slayer Anderson to worry about.

Present-Slayer Anderson Out!

P.S.-One reason why this is up so quickly is because it's my birthday present from me to my readers. Sorry I didn't have a DC Phantom to go with it.


	3. Chapter 3

Slayer Anderson

Marvel Phantom Chapter 3

A Danny Phantom/Marvel 'Verse Crossover

04/20/2013

Chapter III – (Because) Family Matters

It was another half-hour before Danny and Tucker were admitted to see Sam.

Under the watchful eyes of her parents, who were not at all happy that their daughter had been admitted to the hospital by two 'bad influences.' Granted, they acknowledged that neither Tucker nor Danny had actually caused the warehouse to collapse, but neither was exactly willing to forgive the fact that their daughter's mere association with the two boys had lead her to be injured.

"Daniel," Mrs. Manson didn't quite glare, "Tucker."

"Guys," Sam grinned from her hospital bed. "Hey Danny, Tucker said we had a great time at the concert, sorry it ended up this way."

"Not your fault," Danny smiled wanly. Warily, he cut a glance towards the Mansons, before asking, "So...you don't remember anything from the concert? I mean, the costumes you made us were pretty cool."

Sam smiled, seemingly honestly pleased by the compliment, "Nope, though the doctors say I might remember sometime...did I really dress Tucker up as a clown?"

Tucker groaned and the Manson parent's mouths subtly twitched.

Danny's anxiety faded and he grinned openly, "Yeah...I think that's the only time I've ever seen you wear a dress-a real, _dress_ dress, ya' know?"

"Don't get used to it," Sam commented, rolling her eyes.

"-Actually, Samantha," Jeremy Manson interrupted, speaking up so suddenly his daughter started, "you may well have to 'get used to it.'"

Sam blinked, an ounce of dread settling in her stomach, "Huh?"

"Your father and I were talking," Pamela contributed, "and we've come to a decision, though we'd like your input before it's finalized. You see, we're both worried about the environment this town represents and the choices you've made recently-"

"You mean, expressing myself?" Sam bit out defensively.

Pam stiffened, soothing out creases in her pink dress. "Well, yes, if you want to call it that. Now, your father and I understand what it's like to be young and reactionary-"

"-yeah, right," Sam muttered.

Although his wife began to flush in anger, Jeremy merely gave a gentlemanly snort and patted her hand. "Now, dear, Sam has a right to her own opinions. I believe we had ours about our own parents at her age? That is why we skipped out on our freshman year of college, wasn't it?"

Sam, Tucker, and Danny's eyes bulged at the admission.

Pam flushed again, though this time in embarrassment, "Jeremy!"

"Pamela," Jeremy replied, his voice even. "We're trying to make Sam understand our position, not alienate her. That is why we wanted to wait until Daniel and Tucker were here, wasn't it?"

Sam blinked, turning to look at her friends, then back to her parents, "What do you mean?"

Pam bit her lip, before nodding to her husband. "Saman-Sam, we realize that, lately, we haven't had the best relationship with you, but...you must realize that we really _do _want what's best for you, which is why we didn't want you to feel like we were attacking you or your choices. We waited for your friends so that you would have 'backup,' so to speak."

Sam, now wary, nodded slightly, careful not to aggravate her head wound.

Jeremy picked up the conversation, "And part of that is letting you 'express yourself,' as you put it. I would like to remind you that, now matter how vigorously we have objected to the way you dress, the accessories you prefer, or the friends you make...we haven't forbidden you anything save that which might be dangerous."

Sam blushed as her friends looked away awkwardly.

"Which brings us to..." Pam gestured to the hospital room.

Sam's blush intensified, "I'm sorry."

"That may be, sweetie," Pam replied, "But we're not particularly mad about the fact that you got hurt. Accidents do happen. However, we are upset that you lied to us."

"I just didn't-" Sam started, but halted lamely.

"-think that we would have let you go?" Jeremy asked, frowning at his daughter. "You'd have been right."

Sam almost growled, "See, if you'd just-"

"Sam!" Jeremy nearly shouted, pausing as his daughter went quiet. "And this goes for you too, Danny, Tucker...we talked to the police investigating the accident and the concert wasn't registered with the city. There weren't fire escapes, there weren't any on-call emergency services, or any responsible party to oversee the food and drink that was served there."

"But, we were okay," Sam insisted.

"Yes, though you might not have been," Pam replied. "Sam, they had alcohol there. You're _fourteen_. You told us you were at Paulina Canals' house for a sleepover. I suppose it means something about us as parents that we believed you, though I suspect you would have found another excuse, much like your friends, if we had seen through that one."

The three teens swallowed.

"You could have been dead and we wouldn't have known." Jeremy said gravely, staring at his daughter with hard eyes.

Sam's head dropped, her eyes misty.

"That's not to say that we've never done anything of...questionable judgment." Pam admitted with some shame. "Since your father admitted that we both took a...temporary sabbatical before completing our degrees, I don't suppose its unbelievable that I admit _why_, exactly, we did so...you see, your parents attended a concert, too."

All three teens blinked.

"A little thing called 'Woodstock,'" Jeremy explained, smothering a smile at the shock displayed by the teens. "The difference is, we were consenting adults. You kids are too young to be in positions like the one from that night, but your safety isn't our responsibility like Sam's is."

Danny and Tucker squirmed where they stood.

"Due to many reasons, Sam, your father and I have decided to move back to New York. We originally moved out to Amity Park to find a safe place to raise you, Sam, however that doesn't seem to be working any more."

"We're...moving?" Sam asked, shocked.

"Yes," Pam nodded.

Sam tensed, readying herself to fight, "You're just doing this to get rid of my friends-"

"No, we're not," Jeremy refuted. "And to prove it, your friends can come and visit any time they'd like...or you can come and visit during the summers, and we have no problem with you running up our phone bill taking to either of them."

"Samantha," Pam tried tentatively, reaching out for her daughter's hand only to freeze as Sam retracted it. "You scared us, and badly. When you're an adult you can give us all the gray hairs you'd like, but until then your father and I want you...if not safe, then at least where we can look out for you. That said, we'd be happy to listen to any alternatives you or your friends can think of."

Danny's mind raced, "What about tutors? I mean, if you hired some teachers to come to your house so that Sam wouldn't need to leave it? Then we could visit and you wouldn't have to leave."

"We considered tutors," Jeremy nodded, "But that didn't solve the problem of Amity Park, Daniel. You see, we talked to a few of Sam's teachers and classmates when we were trying ascertain exactly where our daughter had been when this accident occurred."

Sam winced.

"I swear I've never met a more vindictive little bi-," Pam winced, "girl. The teachers in that school are completely irresponsible and I shudder to think what high school would be like. Add in the fact that this town's police haven't been able to deal with that mess around your house, Daniel...I've lost quite a lot of faith I once had in this town's infrastructure."

Tucker swallowed, trying to come up with anything that could keep his friends together, though maybe... "What if we agreed not to see Sam anymore?" Tucker asked desperately.

"Tucker!" Sam hissed, shock and anger flashing in her eyes.

"If they let you stay-" Tucker argued.

"This isn't about-" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"Kids!" Jeremy shouted, quieting the trio. "Sam, this isn't about your friends. Tucker, Daniel, this isn't about whether or not you're friends with our daughter. Although we may not necessarily be happy about the prospect, I don't think forcing Sam to choose between us would..."

Sam watched as her father trailed off listlessly, a bit of hurt crossing his eyes.

"-we know she wouldn't choose us," Pam admitted painfully, "Not that we've given her any reason to, I suppose."

An oppressive, awkward silence ensued, dominating the air of the hospital room, Sam pulling her legs up to meet her chest. "Okay," she mumbled finally. "New York, fine."

"Sam," Danny tried weakly, unused to seeing his friend so...defeated.

"We'll be able to talk," Sam shrugged, not looking up. "It won't be so bad."

"Sam," Danny repeated softly, walking over to hug his friend, Tucker quickly reciprocating. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Sam shook her head.

It's not you fault...the words echoed in Danny's head, his face paling rapidly as he remembered the green _thing_ that was walking through the concert crowd. _'It is my fault. It is, Sam...I'm so sorry, god I'm sorry.'_

"I'll work on getting a chat program set up," Tucker grinned suddenly. "It'll be like you never left. You, me, and Danny will be able to chat 24/7."

Sam scowled at him, looking up and just a bit of her normal self for the first time in several minutes, "You better not try to call me while I'm in the bathroom, mister."

Danny laughed, though it was a bit strained.

**Marvel Phantom**

"In all my years, I've never seen something so irresponsible! You blatantly disregarded your own safety and that of Danny, Jazz, and Rhodey! How would you feel if they had gotten hurt!?" Howard Stark yelled.

"But they told us-"

Across the room, a similar scene was playing out.

"-unbelievable! That's what it it, unbelievable! Jazz, you deliberately left the safety of Fenton Work's security and took your brother with you! The police had to come to our door and explain the situation, _Jasmine! The Police!_"

As Jazz cringed under the verbal assault, Danny received his own from the large orange man in the jumpsuit. "-you could have been kidnapped! Or worse! Do you have any idea how your mother and I felt when we learned you had been chased around town by a group of fanatics!?"

Rhodey, the final member of the quartet, sat silently on the sofa in the middle of the room, philosophically pondering the enigma of whether it was better to immediately get yelled at by his parents after doing something stupid or to let his mom have plenty of time to work up a full head of steam. "She's gonna' kill me," the dark-skinned teen whimpered, already imagining the thunderous expression on Roberta Rhodes.

"-I think a two week suspension from lab privileges and anything more technologically advanced than a television should be a equitable punishment," Howard finished.

"But how will I do my homework? I just got assigned a ten page paper on the application of advanced thermodynamics! I need sources!" Tony argued.

"Two words, son," Howard replied, "Card. Catalog."

Danny and Jazz shivered under their parents' stares, waiting for their own judgments to be passed. "Until further notice," Maddie began, "You two are confined to Fenton Works and will be doing extra chores."

"Also," Jack growled, "Howard has given us some advice on our new-found...fame. The next time we allow you two outside, you'll both have bodyguards and we're considering having you both pulled from school for private tutoring like Tony."

Jazz cringed, _'there goes my social life. Well, I barely knew anyone outside my study group anyway.'_ "But mom," She said aloud, "Doesn't that cost money?"

"Yes," Maddie nodded. "We're going to be reorganizing Fenton Works, which is why we're going to be going on a little trip tomorrow."

For some reason, the previously granite-like face of Jack Fenton cracked a bit as he winced.

After punishments were dished out, the three other shell-shocked teens joined their friend on the couch, eyes downcast. Tony's face was grimly set in a defiant scowl while Jazz continued to sniffle slightly, a few tears being mopped away from red eyes. Daniel was the most intact of the three, though that wasn't due to his father pulling any punches, merely due to relief that he'd managed to hold onto his control after taking such a verbal chastisement.

"Jack, Maddie, I want to thank you for your hospitality. I just wish this meeting could have ended under better circumstances," Howard explained. "However, I think we need to take our leave. If you or your company ever need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Placing a heavy hand on Rhodey and Tony each, the billionaire genius led both away.

"Thank you Howard, we might have to do just that," Maddie nodded.

"Yeah, Howie! We'll invite you and the boys to dinner sometime!" Jack grinned, back to his boisterous self for a moment.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tony couldn't help but crack a smile as they were being led away. At his father's cringe, he commented, "_Howie_?"

Howard gave a deep sigh and shook his head.

Back on the couch, Danny waved somewhat wearily, "See ya' Tony."

"Look us up if you're ever in New York, we'll hang," Tony shrugged. "It was fun, until...you know."

Jazz managed a somewhat wet smile, "Have a safe trip Tony, Rhodey."

Much to Tony's amusement, Rhodey blushed slightly as he responded, "Have a good one, Jazz."

Then the Starks and Rhodey rounded the corner and started climbing the stairs, disappearing from sight.

Both Fenton parents gave sighs as their guests left, turning their attention back onto their children. Said children did their best not to cringe as steady gazes watched them grimly. Maddie began, "Well, I hope both of you learned your lesson at least."

"Both of us?" Danny asked, turning to Jazz.

"Your sister was...assaulted at the library," Jack said shortly, something dark and angry in his eyes. "Thankfully, she managed to get away and the bas-suspect was caught. We'll be pressing charges."

"Unlike the man who was leading the mob that chased you, Daniel," Maddie inserted. "Ezekiel Priest, if that was his name, escaped the police's efforts to pursue him. Even though I am _incredibly _angry and disappointed in both of you, I have to say that I am proud of your ability to respond well under pressure."

"Well," _sniff, sniff_, "It's not like it's the first time-"

"Jazz-" Danny hissed, interrupting his emotionally unstable sister while at the same time making certain..._plans_ for the person who had tried to hurt Jazz.

"What did you say, young lady?" Jack Fenton pressed when his daughter quieted.

Jazz bit her lip.

"Danny, would you like to add anything?" Maddie asked in a brittle and angry tone.

Danny's mouth tightened into a thin white line.

For a moment, the Fenton living room was silent.

Maddie sighed. "If neither of you are willing to explain that comment, then I'm afraid your father and I will need to take drastic action."

"More drastic than getting us _bodyguards_?" Jazz asked petulantly. "Or taking us out of school?"

"Maddie and I talked it over with Howard," Jack explained. "And some of the risk that...celebrities," here, he said the word like a piece of an alien dialect, "like us face mean that we need a bit more security than we've been living with...or at least a different, non-ghost related security...which means we're considering moving."

Both teens jaws dropped as Danny realized exactly how Sam must have felt just hours ago.

Another, shorter silence ensued as Danny and Jazz called their parent's bluff. Finally, it was their eldest daughter who broke first. Under the storm of chastisement she'd weathered just minutes ago from her mother and the realization that she'd put her little brother in life-threatening danger...the words came pouring out.

"We...got bullied," Jazz bit out. "Danny and I, both. We got good at...avoiding people, when we needed to."

"Oh, sweetie," Maddie whispered, now somewhat sorry that their treat had worked.

"Dann-o..." Jack asked quietly, "I want you to tell me the truth...was this because of what your mother and I do for a living?"

Danny's silence and averted gaze more than answered Jack's question.

"Oh God," Jack whispered, "What have I done? My kids are bullied for years and I don't notice!? I've put my entire family in danger with this-this, _stupid ghost obsession!_" Jack cried, his legs giving out as he dropped into a chair and let his head drop into his hands. "I've been an idiot-a goddamn idiot! It's a miracle I haven't gotten one of you killed!"

Maddie, if possible, was in worse straits, openly crying as she hugged herself. "Why didn't you kids _tell us_?! It's bad enough we've ruined our lives with our research! We didn't need to ruin yours too!"

"_STOP!_"

Jazz's gaze snapped up from where she'd been fastidiously staring at her shoes, locking onto her brother as he stood, literally shaking with rage, nearly-tangible waves of anger pouring off his body. Danny, himself, was a hair's breadth away from loosing his still-fragile control as his vision flickered with shadows and mist, his parents fading in and out of sight as he tried to keep a handle on the tumult inside him. Swallowing, he looked first his mother, then his father, in the eyes, before saying what was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to vocalize.

"I'm proud of you."

It was an admission he'd never made to his parents, something he'd never been able to bring himself to say to them before. And, even with everything that had happened: their sudden fame, or infamy, his and Jazz's assaults, and even, or especially, the 'incident' with the portal...

It was still true.

"You and dad," he addressed his mother, for some reason finding it easier to face her than his crying father. "You and dad," he repeated, "never cared what anyone thought. You never needed anyone's approval to hunt ghosts. Even when my the jerks and jocks in my classes called you kooks or weirdos, I said they were wrong."

He winced here, unable to stop himself. "And...yeah, I got beat up for it...and I think Jazz did too, but _so what!?_ We're proud of you!" His eyes misted over slightly, "We _glad_ you're our parents!"

"Danny's right," Jazz asserted, finding her voice and her feet as she stood. "I might have argued about your ghost-hunting, but...when it came down to it, you were doing what you loved and I was proud of that. My parents were brave and anyone who didn't care about that didn't matter. They always said you were...crazy, mad...but we stood by you!" Now her dander was rising too, Jazz's teary-red eyes sparking nearly visible, "And they were wrong! You proved them wrong!"

Jack Fenton swallowed thickly, his eyes wet for another reason now as he lunged forward, grabbing his kids in a humungous bear-hug the likes of which hadn't been witnessed for years in the Fenton home. An instant later, the two Fenton children were sandwiched between their parents as the adults hugged the living daylights out of them.

"We're so proud of you, kids," Maddie whispered, still clinging desperately to her family. "Never doubt that we're proud of you too."

"And you can come to us with anything," Jack reminded them, the boisterous man speaking quietly for once. "Because we're your parents and we love you...that means you come before ghosts. Every. Time."

"Like you always should have," Maddie affirmed wetly, her throat tight. "And I'm sorry if we ever made you think that wasn't the case."

Danny's throat choked with emotion as he closed his eyes. A part of him desperately wanted to say something, explain everything...about the portal, about his 'powers,' but...his parents had already learned enough about him and Jazz for today. They already blamed themselves enough...he didn't want to know what they'd do, what they'd say if he told them about-

_Glowing, alien green eyes-_

He shivered.

_Ephemeral white, purer than newly-fallen snow-_

No, he wouldn't.

_An icy chill, like the hand of death crawling up his spine-_

He wouldn't tell them. Not now...

_Unbeating heart, lungs that didn't inhale, blood that didn't flow-_

...if ever.

**Marvel Phantom**

A Fenton Family Road Trip was a momentous occasion (as with everything Fenton, the Road Trip deserved capital letters and, yes, you could hear them when Jack said-

"Fenton Family Road Trip Checklist Time! To your stations!" Jack Fenton cried.

Jazz rolled her eyes, but nevertheless stepped up to the stack of boxes positioned next to the enormous vehicle taking up over half of their garage. In honor of the occasion, she had elected to willingly don the Fenton Family Jumpsuit, something which her parents had insisted that neither she nor Danny needed to do, but...

They were proud of their parents, when it came down to it.

And, right now especially, they didn't care who knew it.

"Alright, Fentons!" Jack cried again, "Maddie, get us started."

Madeline Fenton stood away from the miscellaneous stacks of boxes, wielding a clipboard, checklist, and writing instrument as if they were a conductor's baton.

"Two weeks emergency dried rations," Maddie called out.

"Check," Danny replied, leveraging one of the boxes, full to bursting with small foil-wrapped packages, into the large vehicle. He too was adorned in the black-and-white jumpsuit his parents had made him, a show of Fenton solidarity.

"Emergency air pump, extra tires, nuts, and patching kit?" Maddie asked.

"Check-a-roo," Jack yelled, settling the supplies into a compartment.

"Emergency bug-spray, sun screen, towels, and other essentials," Maddie listed, checking off the previous items.

"Check," Jazz nodded, stashing the requisite items under one of the fold-out seats.

"Clothing for the entire family, including extra jump suits and vacuum-sealed emergency changes," Maddie asked.

"Check," Danny called.

And on it went. As per Fenton Family Road Trip Regulations (specifically Rule 3, Section C, Subsection Blue) all equipment, supplies, foodstuffs, and essentials had to go through a strict and stringent checklist to make sure nothing was forgotten or misplaced. The rule had been instituted, somewhat (im)famously, in response to a trip to see Maddie's sister in which Jazz's childhood blanket, favorite stuffed animal, Danny's box of diapers, and the emergency ecto-guns had been left unpacked and forgotten. True to form, the Fenton parents had learned their lesson and instituted a wildly over-reactive response to the problem.

"-personal entertainment bags with portable hygiene supplies," Maddie finished.

"Check," All four Fenton's cries rang out simultaneously, Maddie herself yelling out as she raised her own small duffel back with reading material, music player, and other...products. Danny and Jazz had packed similarly. Jack, being both Jack and the designated driver, had packed a cooler with fruit juices, fudge, and ham. Maddie had packed his hygiene equipment for him.

She'd learned her lesson after that one time Jack hadn't thought to pack deodorant.

"Okay, last item," Maddie asserted, "Does anyone need to go to the bathroom?"

"Check," Jack, Danny, and Jazz muttered somewhat embarrassingly.

"Danny, use the Ops Center. Jack, use the guest bathroom. Jazz, the upstairs hall bathroom," Maddie ordered, still in 'checklist mode.'

As Danny hurried off to relieve a certain unmentionable urge, his thoughts stilled in contemplation as he remembered the end of the previous night's discussion:

_The Fenton Family Hug broke up, Jack and Maddie still wearing proud smiles, even if Danny and Jazz refused to meet their gazes as their faces flushed in embarrassment._

_ "Are...we really going to move?" Jazz asked finally, breaking the silence._

_ Maddie sighed, the smile fading from her face as she looked to her husband who, likewise, wore a thoughtful frown. "I'm not sure, Danny...Jack and I are honestly considering it. Our family has had a lot of...mixed experiences in Amity Park, I think a fresh start might do us all some good."_

_ Danny nodded silently._

_ "Mom," Danny began, "is that what you meant by a trip tomorrow? Are we going to be checking out houses? Because...well, Sam's family is moving to New York and..."_

_ Jazz swallowed a teasing smile as Maddie shook her head, "Danny, I'm not sure uprooting our family to follow your friend almost half-way across the country is a good idea."_

_ Danny flushed and felt a tingle of ice climb up his throat. Shaking off the surge of his 'other side,' he responded, "It's not that, I just mean...if we move away, Tucker's going to be here alone and, well, he's as much of a...magnet for trouble as I am. And, well, with this mess, would-I mean, could we-"_

_ Danny's mother sighed deeply, her expression sympathetic as she considered what her son was asking. "I'll...I can't promise anything, Danny, but I will talk to Tucker's parents about it, maybe we can come up with something."_

_ Danny sighed and nodded. It was the best he could hope for, at any rate._

_ "As to your other question," Maddie shook her head as Jack scowled, "I'm afraid we won't be looking at houses tomorrow."_

_ "We won't?" Jazz prompted, looking to her father._

_ "Nope, Jazzy-pants," her father grinned, though there was a subdued air to the expression that the Fenton children didn't see often. "Howie told us that we might be able to make a lot of money if we start production of some of our inventions and, well...we have a few options."_

_ "Options?" Danny asked obligingly._

_ "Yes," His mother nodded. "You see, to reorganize Fenton Works into a real business rather than just a research firm that exists as an LLC on paper-"_

_ Danny, Jazz, and Jack (especially Jack) blinked owlishly._

_ "We'd need to refinance," Maddie said bluntly, "Which means money and...talking with Howard and some of his legal counsel, which we'll be employing from now on, it means a lot of money."_

_ "So are we going to take out a loan, or something?" Jazz asked, concerned._

_ "Or something," her father muttered grimly. "Tomorrow we're going to see someone about maybe getting the Fenton Research Trust to release funds for us to...do that stuff your mom talked about."_

_ "Oh," Jazz nodded, her brows furrowed. "But don't you and mom control the trust? I mean..."_

_ "Not...exactly," Maddie replied, looking to her husband for direction._

_ Jack sighed and combed a gloved hand through his hair, smearing in a bit of ever-present ectoplasm onto his scalp. "I guess it's time I told you kids. Jazz, do you remember when you were doing that family tree thing for school? Well, I wasn't entirely honest when I said that all of our immediate family has passed away...we're going to see my father. Your grandfather."_

_ Danny and Jazz's eyes widened._

_ "He's the Fenton Paterfamilias," and here Jack scowled openly. "Dad's a bit of a...well, he's stuck in the past. Still reading all those books about the medieval hooey and talking about lineage and...well, he's old-fashioned. Really old-fashioned."_

_ "Jack and his father had a falling out," Maddie explained, seeing that talking about his father was hurting Jack. "They haven't talked in several years...since before I met your father, really. I only met him when he attended our wedding."_

_ The concept of a grandfather was...difficult for the Fenton children, who if typical in no other way, had been raised in a very American 'nuclear family,' to tackle. After a moment, Jazz asked, "His name was-is-William, right?"_

_ "William Dickson Fenton," Jack nodded. "Just like my name is Jack Williamson Fenton...it's a bit of a tradition for Fenton men to give their sons a middle name that represents the fact that they're their father's son."_

_ "But my middle name is James," Danny pointed out, unsure how to feel about that fact._

_ Jack nodded, grinning as he did so. "Right-o, Dan-o. Pops was mighty pi-peaved when he found that out, I bet. It was about time the tradition was broken anyway, I was never one to follow the stupid things...that was one of the things Dad and I fought over."_

_ "Huh," Danny nodded absently, mouthing the name 'Jackson' to himself absently._

_ "Is that why we've never met him?" Jazz asked._

_ "Darn tooting," their father nodded. "I didn't want you kids to grow up like I did. Dad waxed on and on about traditions and knowledge and those old books full of gobledy-gook. There were all sorts of hooks he wanted to get in to me...and he'll probably want either of you, too. Just, if he says anything that you don't like the sound of, tell me or your mother and we'll leave. My kids will be able to choose their own lives and they won't have to fight for it like I did. I mean...I didn't even see a television until I was fifteen!"_

_ "Wow," Danny stated, a little surprised._

_ "That would have been...the mid-sixties?" Jazz asked, mentally counting, "I thought televisions were, if not common, then at least affordable by then."_

_ Jack snorted, "1972, Jazzy-pants, I'm not quite that much of a dinosaur. But, yeah, the Old Man could have afforded one, but he'd have to get the old place wired with electricity first."_

_ Jazz's mouth dropped open slightly._

_ Danny's own snapped closed fairly quickly, not wanting to show his shock._

_ "I still can't believe your father didn't have electricity installed by that time," Maddie shook her head slowly._

_ "Probably still doesn't," Jack grunted. "Remind me to pack the generator and the extra solar panels just in case. Okay kids, up to your rooms and get to packing. We're leaving tomorrow before dawn and see if we can't surprise some of those vultures outside." The grin that lit Jack Fenton's face at that moment was positively evil._

_ "Where are we going, anyway?" Danny asked, then paused for thought, "And does this mean we get off extra chores?"_

_ Maddie sighed, exchanging a brief look with Jack before capitulating. "In light of...recent events, we'll rescind the chores, but I never want to hear you two doing something so dangerous and reckless again, hear me!"_

_ "Yes 'mam," Danny and Jazz responded in tandem._

_ "And we're going to the old homestead: Blood Blossom Court," Jack admitted, slumping as if the admission pained him physically. "and my old hometown, Salem."_

Danny shook his head, drying his hands and carefully replacing the towel as he left the Ops Center restroom, meeting Jazz on the way back down the stairs. "So...Salem. Isn't that where the whole family legend thing started? The one that Dad likes to talk about?"

"Yep," Jazz nodded, discretely pulling at the jumpsuit material as it rode up in an... uncomfortable region. The outfits were more comfortable than they looked, but...sometimes that didn't mean much. "You're thinking connection?"

"Probably," Danny shrugged, fighting off a chill as they passed by the Lab door. Even with the house powered down with the notable exception of the security system, locked up, and the lab sealed behind a foot-thick steel and concrete door at the bottom of the stairwell, he could_ feel _that damn portal. His parents had gotten the surprise of their...day?...hour?...when they tried to cut power to the portal and found it had become self-sustaining.

While merely interesting for the scientists, to Danny it was more...ominous.

Nevertheless, with the portal sealed tight in a house like Fenton Works (which was essentially a nuclear bunker designed for eldritch abominations from beyond the grave instead of radioactive fallout), Danny supposed it was as safe as it could be. Honestly, he was just glad to be out of the house again...in retrospect, his proximity to the portal had probably been driving him more than a little crazy...

He hoped he wouldn't have gone out there with that mob if he'd been a bit more sane at the moment.

Because, in hindsight? That had been really stupid.

_'Although I kinda' get why I did it...even spending one night back under the same roof with the portal is giving me the heebie-jeebies,' _Danny thought nervously. '_It's like there's something under my skin...or-'_ With deliberate finality, Danny cut that thought off at the knees, doing his best to put it out of his mind.

"Ready to go?" Maddie asked her family as she was setting the alarm.

"Let's do this," Jack grinned, his normal rambunctious nature coming to the fore.

**Marvel Phantom**

Harriet Chin had never believed in coincidences.

Until five days ago, that is, when she'd turned on the television and seen her old classmates' faces staring back at her.

Then, orders came down from the studio that she had become the go-to person for the story on the Fenton Family and their new-found popularity. It had been hard enough for her to accept Jack Fenton's appearance on national tv, let alone that her...old 'friend' might be, in fact, a revolutionary genius of the highest order. The few big names she'd had the pleasure of meeting: Howard Stark, boy genius Reed Richards, and a few others had borne out the theory that a certain level of intelligence allowed one a few...eccentricities.

But Jack Fenton?

Jack Fenton had cornered the market on weirdness back when they were still putting men on the moon. _Jack Fenton_ was not the world's next Einstein, and she would make her career by proving it.

Or die trying.

"You sure about this boss?" Larry Johnson, her cameraman asked from behind the driver's seat. She'd picked Larry for a few reasons, but mostly because he had a former (and mercifully short-lived) career in Nascar. The twenty five year old had swept back black hair and the steely gray gaze of someone twenty years older than himself.

Not to mention he was a tiger in the sack.

But that was neither here nor there.

"Oh yeah," Harriet nodded, smiling grimly. "Those idiots aren't going to get anywhere laying siege to that place. I went to high school and college with that nut...and even if he's completely bat-shit crazy, he's also dedicated...more like obsessive, really."

"So...what? Aren't we wasting our time, too?" Larry posited. "This is, like the third night we've been out here."

"In our sophomore year of college, Jack, Maddie, and their friend Vlad barricaded themselves in the school's physics lab for Spring Break to build a prototype of one of their crazy inventions. Long story short? Someone called campus PD about the noise they were making after the third day."

"So they got busted, so what?" Larry replied, his tone bored and unimpressed. For his sophomore college year he'd raced down to Baja and hadn't obeyed a single speed limit from there to San Fran.

"It turned out Jack, Maddie, and Vlad had quite literally barricaded themselves in. Tables and lockers had been pushed out of the middle of the room and up against the doors and windows. It took another three days and a call to the city's SWAT team to get the doors open.

Larry whistled, eyes wide. "Okay, that is a little impressive."

Harriet snorted, "The best part? They didn't even _notice_ until the cops had almost broken down the doors, mind you, they would have had to get through the rest of the junk those three had piled up, anyway...and then Jack Fenton throws them wide and starts welling about their new invention, he and Maddie run off while everyone's standing there, staring at them..."

"So they got away?" Larry asked, doubly impressed.

"Sorta'," Harriet responded. "Vlad had stayed behind to monitor their experiment while Jack and Maddie went to send off the patents. Anyway, the dean of the science department was on the scene and started ordering people to shut down their equipment and Vlad tried to stop them."

"What happened?" Larry asked, now enthralled.

Harriet shrugged, going quiet for a bit. "Don't know. Someone threw a switch they weren't supposed to...at least, that's the official story, and the next second, Vlad Masters was gone."

"Gone?" The cameraman repeated, pushing for clarification.

"Gone," Harriet nodded, holding her hands out, "Poof."

"Huh," Larry summed up, then blinked. "So why are we out here again?"

Harriet gave a growl, "Didn't you even listen? You can't corner Jack Fenton. In a place like that?" She pointed to Fenton Works, where the building stood dark and strange down the street from the enormous campground which the Fenton's street had become. "He's in hog heaven! Jack Fenton will come out when he's good and ready...and when he does? No one will see it coming...well, at least, none of them will."

"Uh huh," Larry nodded, staring at his incensed boss the way a person would an especially pissed-off viper. _'I am so getting a transfer after this job...I shoulda' known that no woman that hot __doesn't have serious issues.'_

Of course, Larry knew he didn't exactly have all his marbles either...and Harriet did have some seriously nice curves. After a long moment of silence, he chance a look at her again. Damn, that woman was sexy when she was angry. "So...since nothing's happening ya wanna'-"

And, of course, that was when it happened.

A gigantic machine, larger than an RV by half-again, armor plated, and had engines that roared like a pack of lions. The earth trembled as it shot by, the laughing maniac behind the wheel barely able to be heard over the thunderous noise of his chariot. Both reporter and cameraman were left speechless in his wake, though only for a moment.

"_Sweet Jesus_," Larry breathed, awed by its passing. "What in the holy hell was that?"

"Jack Fenton," Harriet snarled, her face resembling a shark more than a human at that moment. "I _knew it_! _I fucking knew it_! Don't just sit there, dumbass! Get after him!"

As Harriet Chin and Larry Johnson sped off after their quarry, the completely missed the startled mass of camped reporters awoken by the massive vehicle.

"The fuck was that?" One reporter asked, stumbling out from his van.

"...a tank?" Another replied, at a complete loss to describe what had just happened.

It would be hours before they realized their collective targets had vanished from their home.

**Marvel Phantom**

"What are you doing?" Danny asked curiously, looking up from his game.

"Research," Jazz replied, her eyes still locked on the screen of her laptop. A cord had been stretched from the computer up to a large piece of technical-looking equipment. "Mom transferred the communications suite from the Ops Center because we don't know how long this trip is going to take, so she wanted us to be able to get in communication with Mr. Stark or whatever."

"Huh," Danny nodded. "So...what are you looking up?"

"Our grandfather," Jazz said shortly. "I'm actually updating my family tree research from a few years ago. Back then dad told me there probably wouldn't be much on his father, but..."

"He probably did want us looking him up," Danny nodded, standing up and leaning against the side of the vehicle for balance.

Their father was a bit...wild behind the wheel.

"What have you got so far?" She'd been at...whatever it was on her computer for a few hours now, ever since they'd gotten out of Amity Park. Until recently, he'd been playing through a slight backlog of his handheld games...although, they were starting to become a bit less fulfilling than they had been. Every few minutes, it seemed, his mind would start drifting and he'd be drawn back to the warehouse...

...where his life had changed.

He snorted lightly as Jazz started demonstrating some of her family tree project, which he'd been a little too young to appreciate the first time around. Idly, he wondered if his entire life would be divided by the events in that warehouse.

Before Warehouse...BW.

After Warehouse...AW.

His cheek twitched at the absurdity of it, but the fact remained. He had willingly tapped into the energy within him...and it had responded. It was frightening that he was no longer...alive, at least not completely. It was horrifying that he was not longer completely human, yes. But...

He had _walked through a wall!_

_ Two walls!_

Incredibly, unbelievably, there was a kind of morbid fascination brewing within him, the terror of being _unable to breath, his heart not beating, blood not flowing-_

The sudden surge of panic proved that, no, the terror hadn't faded entirely, but...a certain curiosity remained. Danny fought to keep his breathing under control as he listened to his sister, all the while, the bundle of energy within him pulsing in time with his beating heart.

"-and that branch of the family kind of disappears around 1850," Jazz sighed.

"And these branches?" Danny asked, pointing to a part of the screen.

"European," Jazz explained shortly. "I lose track of them after World War II. I think I was able to track one down in Germany, but they practiced Kabbalah, Merkabah, and Chassidei Ashkenaz, so..."

"Kabbalah?" Danny asked, brows furrowing. Focusing on the familiar word, he'd heard it somewhere.

"Jewish mysticism," Jazz explained, her voice quiet.

"Oh," Danny swallowed, his eyes downcast. "And the others," He asked, noticing there were several other branches that just...ended, "what about them?"

"No idea," Jazz admitted. "Some might have gotten out of Europe, some might still be there. If they left, they could have gone to America, South America, Africa, Asia..."

"Yeah," Danny sighed. "So what about our grandfather, you said you were looking into him."

"Without much success," his sister replied. "I think he did _something_ for the government back in WWII and maybe for a little bit after...I requested a few declassified files from the DOD earlier today and his name keeps popping up-"

"The Department of Defense?" Danny asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Jazz...aren't you taking this a little too...seriously?"

"Why?" Jazz asked, her eyes still focused on the screen.

"Is it bugging you that much?" Danny replied.

"Does that mean it's _not _bugging you?" Jazz asked, favoring her brother with a raised eyebrow.

Danny frowned. Was it bothering him? "I guess I'm a little curious," He admitted after a moment. "Still, it isn't like you can't ask him...we'll be there tomorrow, after all."

"Danny," Jazz sighed, hesitating for a moment before evidently deciding to continue. "This guy...he might be dangerous. What if he still doesn't like dad and calls the press or something to get revenge?"

"Jazz," Danny shook his head, pressing a hand over his eyes, "Do you really think our father's dad is some kind of evil mastermind out for revenge?"

"Well, not evil, no-" Jazz replied, a little peeved that her brother wasn't taking her seriously.

"What's next?" Danny asked rhetorically, "One of our parent's friends shows up to vow vengeance. This isn't a comic book or a cartoon, Jazz."

"Well, that might happen...if mom and dad had any friends," Jazz snorted lowly, making sure her parents didn't hear. It wasn't a nice thing to say...even if it was effectively true due to their ghost-related shenanigans. "But, fine, if you don't want to listen to me, fine...all I know is that there's something about this guys that smells...fishy."

Danny shrugged, "Whatever...I'm pretty sure the DOD or whoever have something on Tony's grandad if he helped invent the nuke. I mean, a file in a government agency doesn't _automatically _make you a bad guy."

Jazz was silent at that, merely pulling up a new browser window and chasing down a new lead.

"Hey back there! Kids, you awake?" Maddie called, craning her head to look down the central isle.

"Yeah," Danny replied, stretching as he stood. "What's up?"

"We're going to stop for the night at a trailer park. There's a campsite around here that's pretty remote, so we'll be able to get out and stretch our legs."

"Awesome," Danny smiled, relieved to have a little time to himself. Don't get him wrong, his family was great...and the felt closer to them than ever after the past few days, but...there was such a thing as too much 'togetherness.' At any rate, he'd probably be able to sneak away for a few hours and...

Danny shook his head, getting up and pacing away from Jazz, to be along...well, as alone as possible right now, with his thoughts. He ended up leaning against the restroom in the back of the RV, mostly out of sight from the rest of his family.

_'What am I doing? Do I really want to turn back into that...thing? A ghost? That was my life flashing in front of my eyes before, wasn't it? Is it going to be like that every time? Will I have to die...every time I-'_ He shook his head. _'Do I even need to do that again? I mean, the energy has been easier to control, but-'_

Even that one thought, that was enough.

As if ice water had been poured down his spine, he felt his body go cold and, more inexplicably, _clear_. It was an alien sensation that was, slowly, but surely, becoming familiar.

And then he was standing in the restroom.

Another thrill of sensation ran through him.

Conflicting thoughts nearly made his head spin and Danny collapsed on the (thankfully shut) toilet, absently locking the door as he pressed a hand to his forehead.

"What the hell am I?" He vocalized quietly.

_'A ghost...a phantom, or a human? Am I either? Both? Does it matter? I just passed through a door like it was an open window! I can probably even fly...but, I died! I fucking died! I came back too...and these powers saved my life from that Priest guy.'_ He dropped his head further into his hands, sighing deeply. _'And now they're coming easier than before...I used to have to focus to do things like that...now, I just think and they happen. I can't...hold it for long and I get tired if I do it too much, but...it's just so easy...'_

Easy to do what he shouldn't...what a normal person _couldn't_ do. He flexed his hand in front of him, watching as it flickered out of existence, turning translucent, then fading from sight all together.

"Invisibility and intangibility are speculated to be among the most basic of abilities afforded to ectoplasmic entities and phenomena," Danny whispered, the words quoted, memorized, from a book on Ghost Science his parents had. He thought about that book as his hand returned to a physical, solid state. It was a simple one, without too much math and stuff...just a book that spelled out, clearly and plainly, what ghosts were, what they could do.

What he could do.

With his powers.

"What the hell _am I supposed to do_?" There, that was a better question...probably the best one he could ask.

And one that he couldn't answer.

A sudden, jarring stop alerted him that his period of quiet contemplation had come to an end, for now, at least.

"Alright, gang, we're here!" Jack thundered. "Time to make camp."

For appearance's sake, at least, Danny flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and filed out of the bathroom, trailing behind Jazz as she closed her computer for the first time in hours and stood somewhat stiffly. The whole of the Fenton family soon stood outside the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle, taking in the breathtaking view.

Of a cloudy day which was, even now, threatening rain.

A misty lake which had small plumes of chilly clouds flowing over its surface.

A dark and forbidding forest where shadows stretched ominously between the trees.

A picturesque clearing dotted with chipped and roughly carved picnic tables, weeds, and ancient fire pits that looked like they hadn't been used in years.

Yes, on a clear day in bright sunshine, the area might have been something out of a Disney movie, but as it was now... As it was now, the entire panorama screamed 'Horror Movie' so hard it was a wonder their ears weren't bleeding. Everything, down to the small, rotting wooden boat moored at a decrepit dock, as so typical and cliché that Danny had a somewhat difficult time believing his eyes.

Judging by Jazz's twitching eye, neither could she.

"Creature from the Black Lagoon or Jason?" He wondered idly.

"I actually preferred Sleepaway Camp," Maddie replied automatically, then blushed as all eyes turned to her. "But, I always had a soft spot for B-movies."

"Huh," Danny commented. "I wondered where I got that from."

"Definitely me," his mother replied. "Your father wouldn't last a minute with a scary movie...your sister's the same way. You and I would always curl up on the couch when you were little and watch the old black and white Dracula or Wolfman..."

Maddie smiled softly, hugging her son. "You would always cuddle up to me and fall asleep in my arms after the movie. You were so cute."

"And Jazzy-pants and I would go work on something sensible!" Jack grinned, patting his daughter on the back as she smiled back. "Like your science fair projects. I remember that anti-ghost siege weapon we made in 5th grade...whatever happened to that thing?"

"It's probably up in the attic," Jazz replied blushingly, not having the heart to tell her father that it was a scale model of one of a medieval trebuchet she'd built to demonstrate a physics principle. Granted, if one loaded the right ammunition, it could...

_'No!'_ Jazz cried mentally, _'Therein lies the ghost-hunting side, Jazz! Respectable psychologist, that's the plan! No gallivanting around in jumpsuits for-'_

Thankfully, none of her family saw the way Jazz's face soured as she looked down at her clothing suddenly.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," Danny interjected suddenly, "before it gets dark...I've got about two hours right?"

"I...I think I want to too," Jazz spoke up suddenly. "That's okay, isn't it?"

Maddie frowned for a long moment, sharing a look with her husband before sighing. Reaching into her utility belt, she produced a pair of small silver whistles, handing one to each of her children. "Okay kids, I suppose you have been cooped up for a bit long. Be careful and, if there's a problem or your run into someone, blow your whistles and your father and I will come running. Please, don't go too far."

"And I'll get the campfire started," Jack grinned, pulling out a propane torch from...somewhere.

The kids shook their heads in exasperation as they, by some unspoken mutual agreement, began walking in opposite direction into the woods. Danny chose a barely-there path which traced the coast of the lake. Jazz began walked away from the lake, towards a higher rockier section of the forest dotted with small hills and ancient rounded boulders.

Danny smiled as he took in the scenery.

It seemed a little appropriate for what he was doing that the surroundings be appropriately... creepy. He smirked, counting his paces as he looked back towards his parents' camp, then judging that he'd probably need to keep walking for a few more minutes. His parents _probably _didn't have an active ghost sensors up, but he knew the range on the ones in the Ghost Assault Vehicle, and...better safe than sorry.

Rocky soil crackled underfoot as the teen marched along, stepping carefully to avoid sliding into the chilly waters of the lake. Finally, judging that he'd come far enough, he ducked into a small cove that jutted off from the main body of water. Nearby, where water lapped silently onto the sandy soil, Danny took a seat on a mid-sized rock and sighed.

"Do I really want to do this?" He asked himself for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the last few minutes, let alone the last few hours.

_'Well...what are my options? Do nothing? Or...'_ He swallowed, feeling his heart speed up slightly, _'Do something.'_

His nerves were getting harder to fight, Danny understood as he got to his feet, silently staring at his reflection in the glassy water. The energy within him rose to meet his will, dancing at his slightest whim...easy, smooth, responsive. He was getting excited, he knew, now. He knew exactly what he was doing this time, tapping into that cold core of icy fire...not like last time.

There would be no going back after this, after he knowingly took this first step.

He couldn't ever pretend to be 'normal' anymore, at least not truthfully.

Danny snorted suddenly, a wry humor entering his reflection's face. _'Then again, maybe normal's overrated,'_ he thought cynically, his eyes alighting with blue-green energy as something answered to his call. _'After all, look at mom and dad? They don't care what other people think, do they? They are who they are...and they don't let it bother them, do they?'_

The power rose at his command, welling up and threatening to drown him.

Which was okay, because...he didn't need to breathe, where he was going.

Although he'd been more afraid, more intensely frightened by what he was doing...it was easier, less shocking. His vision went black, like last time and, like last time, a sudden piercing white emerged...like he was going through a tunnel. This time, though, he didn't see pictures, moments of his life flashing in front of him, which was a relief.

And by the time he had thought that, it was over.

He was standing on the shore, looking at his own reflection, bathed in that ethereal white light that almost seemed to shimmer from his pristine white cloak. Especially in the semi-darkness of the overcast skies and shadowed woods, he imagined he looked almost...magical.

"Okay," He said aloud, his voice strange and warbling in the silence of the grove around him. "I'm a ghost. A Phantom."

The admission, said aloud, was the death knell he'd been putting off.

Turning back to the boulder he'd been sitting on, he bit his lip, taking his first spectral step as he took a deep breath-

_Lungs not working, heart not beating, ohgodohgodohgod!_

"No!" Danny bit out, fighting the blind panic and terror that threatened to overwhelm him. Around him, his rampant emotions stirred up his docile aura into a tempest of whirling power. "I'm going to do this. I'm okay. I'm good."

It was a lie.

He wasn't 'okay' or 'good,' he was just a few steps away from madness. Not breathing, not having a pulse, not having a beat heart...it wasn't something the human mind was built to deal with. But, 'okay' and 'good' were lies he could get himself to believe, if he tried hard enough. If he focused on something else. With a final push, his body seeped through the boulder, the motion as easy as _breath_-as taking a step. He turned around, marveling at the ease with which his body moved.

As the nearly transparent corona of energy around him calmed, gimlet green eyes widened as he looked around him, really _looked_. The world was...so much...so much-

_More_ than...than anything he'd ever seen.

The shadows he'd seen before, the mist which had obscured his vision before, now enhanced it. The trees seemed to stretch into a deeper part of the world, attaining a dimension that wasn't length, breadth, or height, but didn't seem to have a word in the English language either...

The water seemed richer, somehow, even though it was chilly and the water didn't seem to have any fish in it...effervescent shapes that looked only vaguely like fish swam through its waters. They reminded him of ancient creatures he'd glimpsed in biology textbooks over the last few years of school, giant conical shells and armor-like scales that covered fish with odd protrusions and other bizarre limbs or feelers.

"Wow," Danny whispered, dropping back to his seat on the boulder, this time hitting solid rock.

For a long time, he sat, entranced by the world around him, in awe of a world he'd only just discovered. It might have been days or eons for all Danny cared of time as he posed inhumanly still on the boulder, watching the comings and goings of translucent animals of all makes and casts, which looked like ghosts even to his own spectral eyes, so faint were their imprints on reality.

* * *

As I've intimated before, I'm focusing on Marvel (and DC) Phantom providing a different 'feel' than the canon material. In some ways, the DC universe will be closer to the source material and see more deviation in Danny's personal character. Marvel will be more about world-building in a literal sense as Danny (and the Danny Phantom setting) is incorporated into the wider world. In this world, Danny is as much 'Danny' as he was in Danny Phantom, but he's also well...more 'distilled' I guess is the word.

Anyway, that's how I think of it. Now, hmm...I bet this chapter caught a lot of people off-guard. Yes, people do in fact notice when a child is getting chased down by an angry mob. Likewise, your parents have a completely legitimate cause for concern when you go out partying without telling them. In DP canon? This is played for laughs, here? No, it's not.

But that's not to say everything is bad, either. DP canon lacked a certain feeling of family sometimes. Jack and Maddie were distant figures at times, only really working as a plot device unless they got an episode to focus on their relationships with their children. And, for some reason, this kind of irritates me as both a former child myself and an authority figure (teacher, not parent). Parents should be responsible for their kids, they should be there for them.

In DP canon? Jack and Maddie aren't, not really at least.

And, yes, for those of you who remember the two throwaway lines about "Gramdpa Fenton" from the show, I'm pretty much disregarding them. First, Jack rants about a log cabin and wanting a pony...which is just Jack being Jack, I think. Second, Danny mentions "Grandpa Fenton's yearbook" in the episode he meets Poindexter. Yeah, the problem with that? Poindexter attended school in the fifties, if the cliches are anything to go by. Jack has graying hair, which means he's not a spring chicken. At a conservative estimate, with a fifteen/sixteen year old daughter, Jack is probably ~50 years old. Set in the year 200X, this would put Jack being BORN around 1955 (1957 in Marvel Phantom canon), which would put him in his twenties for the late seventies/early eighties which is what we see him dress up as during that "Masters of All Time," and it also matches the period they would have been in college as per the same episode. Using these numbers (adjusting for an average margin of error) and the fact that the average age for getting married and having kids back then was closer (or past) 30 than 20, Jack's father was most likely "high school age" during the 1930's...and born sometime around 1915-1920, possibly as late as 1925. This is the basic 'timeline' for the Fenton family that I'm working on...well, at least Jack's side. Boy, am I glad they never mentioned Maddie's maiden name...heh...ha, hahahahahahh! (Clears throat) Yeah, don't ask, that's a plot point/twist that I'm throwing out later. _Grin..._

And, wow, I've just proved once again exactly how much of a geek I am by arguing down a throwaway comment in a children's cartoon.

Anyway, this is goodbye for now,

-Slayer Out

P.S. Yes, my progress is being made on my papers, publishing this chapter was a reward if I got some work done.


	4. Chapter 4

Slayer Anderson

Marvel Phantom Chapter 4

A Danny Phantom/Marvel 'Verse Crossover

04/22/2013

Chapter IV – Tactical Retreat

Danny had to admit that he was much more...at peace with himself, as he walked back to the campsite. He still wasn't exactly comfortable with himself, but at least he wasn't afraid of his 'other half,' which was a vast improvement. He'd even moved past that instinctive blaze of fear which threatened to overwhelm him at the thought of his spectral physiology. The nervous anxiety which had persisted after that faithful encounter with the portal that night had all but dissipated, leaving him feeling lighter and calmer than he had in almost a week.

He felt...

Danny chuckled lowly.

_Normal._

He sighed as he stepped back into the campground, his lungs feeling deeply with air. Just because he didn't breath when he was a ghost didn't mean he _liked _the fact, and returning to his human form did give him a certain amount of relief.

Granted, that relief faded quickly when he saw another vehicle pulled up opposite the Ghost Assault Vehicle. It was a sleek car that looked fairly new and slightly altered, but all the better for it. A deep maroon color, the...convertible? As Danny looked closer, he nodded. Yes, the convertible had the feel of a 'supped up' muscle car, but retained its streamlined design. Two figures were already stepping out of the car, a man and woman. The woman waved enthusiastically to his parents, who greeted her with surprised, but genuine expressions of pleasure.

A bit of the worry he'd been feeling eased at that.

"Mom, Dad!" Danny yelled, jogging up to his parents, edging away from the welcome, but unknown strangers. "What's up?"

_'Well,'_ Danny considered, _'at least it that was more polite than 'who are they?' Way to go, I'm learning tact!'_

"Danny!" Maddie cried, waving as she started towards the GAV, "Go keep your father under control...you know how he gets when excited. I'll be back out in a few minutes."

"Dann-o," Jack enthused, grinning. "Glad to see you back, son. Your sister's in the GAV, taking a shower, dinner should be ready in a few. And, look, we're gonna' have guests! This is Harrie Chin!"

The woman winced, her friend looking like he was hiding a smile.

"And her boyfriend, Larry Johnson."

"Sup?" The man asked, grinning as he flicked a salute with two fingers. Whereas 'Harrie Chin' (and, yes, he knew exactly what his father had done with that nickname) was dressed in a casual-professional that looked neat, but relaxed...her boyfriend was far more casual, decked out in jeans, sandals, a clean, but untucked T-shirt, and a black canvas vest that was festooned with ktichy buttons and various other odds-and-ends. Even his hair, cut short and spiked, with a five o'clock shadow visible in this dim light, marked him as a 'slacker'...as his teacher's would say at least.

Granted, they'd used the same word against him and he was standing in the middle of the woods in a full-body jumpsuit. _'So, yeah...I'm pretty sure I don't have room to talk,'_ Danny thought with a wry grin.

Danny shrugged, almost immediately warming to the guy.

"Cool duds," Larry commented, eying the jumpsuit curiously.

Danny did his best not to blush as Jack grinned again, "Finally, someone who can appreciate good lab fashion! This guys a keeper, Harrie!"

The Asian woman blushed furiously at the comment, her boyfriend now trying very hard to hide his blooming grin. "Hear that, _Harrie_, I'm a keeper...and how come you never told me about your nickname?"

"Quiet, you," Harriet snapped, her eyes glinting dangerously.

"Dinner!" Maddie shouted from inside the GAV as both she and Jazz came out, his sister's hair wet, but otherwise looking much the same. "Harriet, Larry, won't you join us? I'm afraid it's a fairly simple dish, just a vegetable casserole, some biscuits, and some grilled chicken, but we have plenty to share and it'd be nice to catch up. What are the chances we'd meet out here?"

"Yeah," Jazz muttered so that only Danny could hear, "What are the chances that one of our parents old friends would show up in the middle of nowhere right behind us?"

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but his breath caught as he remembered the sarcastic comment he'd made earlier. Frowning, he had to consider that the odds were pretty long...

"Sure," Harriet smiled, "We'd love to stay for dinner."

"Grub's always good," Larry put in his two cents. "Although I'd love to sneak a look at what's under the hood of that monster, if you don't mind?"

So said, the man pointed a thumb over to where the GAV sat, a canopy strung out over a set of folding chairs and table, a roaring fire only a few feet away. Jack grinned even wider, worrying Danny that his face would split in two. Even Maddie's smile cracked a bit wider at the implied compliment.

"Sure, Lar," Jack cried, shortening the nickname to a single syllable and pronouncing it so that it rhymed with 'hair.' The man cringed slightly, but Harriet looked vindicated. "Always nice to meet a guy who knows his motors."

"Don't you mean engine?" Larry asked, surprised, "Don't tell me it's all electrical."

"We have a backup diesel engine that we've modified to run on starch oils, but the primary system is all electrical, yes," Maddie nodded, coming back out of the GAV with a large foil container that steamed hot. Vanishing back into the interior, Jack took over the explanation.

"Yep, the Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle is completely green," Jack replied proudly. "Solar panels, low-heat bulbs and LED's, this baby's got it all."

"Ghost _Assault _Vehicle," Harriet repeated, honing in on the juiciest piece of Jack's statement. "Are you planning fighting a lot of ghosts, Jack? I've seen a few of the news reports, any truth to them?"

"Well," Jack considered, "Maddie and I like to be prepared. The GAV is something we built back before we had Danny and Jazz. You remember how Mads and I used to go on those big cross-country trips? Well, we wanted a bit more fortification on our ride after we ran into Azzy."

"Azzy?" Larry asked, looking up briefly from where he was admiring the wheel wells and the exposed suspension.

"Jack, you could get his name right, at least," Maddie chastised gently. "He did vow eternal revenge against us, after all. We should be polite."

"Aw, but Mads, his name's really weird," Jack defended. "Wasn't it something like Azrael or Azbeum or something?"

"Azazel," Maddie replied pointed as she finished setting the table. "Alright, dinner is served, let's sit down. I'm afraid we only have soda and water..."

"That's fine," Harriet replied. "So who is this...Azazel?" Her tongue almost tripped on the unfamiliar name, "And what's this about 'eternal revenge?'"

"His words, not mine," Maddie explained.

"He was this weird demony guy we fought one time in Mexico," Jack summarized. "There was this urn and an inter-dimensional vortex and an army of creepy furry things with horns and tails...but no ghosts."

Danny and Jazz kept eating, having been told the epic tale of the battle between good and evil as a bedtime story. The urn itself, which had facilitated the near-invasion of earth by demonic forces, sat in the Fenton's entryway, having been painted a robin's egg blue by Maddie and was even now holding a bundle of flowers she'd bought the week prior.

Their dinner guests...weren't as familiar with the story.

Larry blinked, his mind attempting to get a foothold on the short, deranged, ramble that had come out of Jack Fenton's mouth.

"Demons..." Harriet replied, doing her best not to cackle with glee. _'Just ask them questions, let the cameras do the rest, Harrie!'_ "You can't seriously expect me to believe you two fought an army of demons, can you Jack? I mean, do you have any proof?"

Jazz's eyes narrowed, something about the woman seemed familiar as she started asking those questions...something...

"Well, the urn's not here, but..." Jack shrugged, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot. "Hey Mads, didn't we have any ham or fudge to go with dinner?"

"Jack Fenton," Maddie sighed, "You've been snacking on ham and fudge during the entire trip. I am still amazed by your bottomless pit of a stomach, but I'm not going to see your cholesterol rise any higher than it already has, remember what the doctor said."

Jack whimpered like a kicked puppy.

"Maybe you can fave a cookie for desert if you clear your plate," Maddie granted.

"Yes," Jack cried, then turned back to Harriet and Larry. "Well...hey Maddie, did you bring the scrapbooks?"

Danny and Jazz stiffened, their eyes widening.

"Yes," Maddie replied, then brightened. "Oh, that's right, Harriet, you never saw Danny and Jazz back when they were kids. For the life of me, I can't figure out why we grew apart."

Sneaking a glance to the jolly orange giant, who was building a miniature ghost-fortress out of his remaining casserole, she managed a strained, "Neither can I...though I _would _love to see some of the pictures of what Jack was talking about, if you have them?"

"Mom, she probably only wants to see the ones about the weird things you've met over the years," Jazz interjected as their mother stood up, trying to cover the pleading in her voice.

"Yeah, I mean, you can save those for after dinner, when we can appreciate them, right?" Danny asked, plastering a rictus of a grin on his face.

"I suppose," Maddie started, "but..."

"They're right Maddie," Harriet interceded. "We can look over the photo albums later, but if it's not too much trouble, I would like to see these 'demons' Jack keeps talking about. It just sounds so exciting." _'Harriet, girl, you should get an Emmy for this,'_ the Asian reporter thought devilishly, _'Still, it's best to leave the kids out of this. They don't deserve to have their embarrassing baby pictures on national news just because their father's an idiot. This is just between me and Jack.'_

"Here they are!" Maddie grinned, leaping out of the GAV with two large albums in her arms after a few short minutes of digging. Passing one to her friend, she flipped the pages open to reveal a much younger Jack and Madeline Fenton, probably just out of college, if that, in front of a picturesque desert landscape.

Below that were several pictures of the two stomping through jungle terrain. "We set the external cameras on the original Ghost Assault Vehicle to motion-sensitive at one-minute intervals. Occasionally, Jack and I had to get out and cut a path through some of the overgrown roads."

"Yep," Jack nodded, "Oaxaca can get a little overgrown once you get into the back country. Let's see," large man hummed in thought, "I think we were in...Istmo? Or was it Sierra Norte? I think things get a little fuzzy during the week I had malaria."

"Why were you two in Mexico, anyway?" Larry couldn't keep himself from asking.

"Oh," Jazz interjected. "They were looking for a haunted temple, weren't you? Wasn't it a lost Aztec pyramid or something?"

"That's right honey," Maddie nodded, smiling. "Now, let's see...we had been informed about a missing expedition from a Spanish museum which had been consumed by evil spirits...though it turns out they were talking about demons and not ghosts."

"Very disappointing," Jack concurred, shaking his head sadly as he turned the page.

Harriet and Larry couldn't restrain the startled cries that leaped from their at the images of the man-shaped _thing_ that stood in an giant...doorway like ring of energy. Around the altar of a smoking pit, red-furred things of varying sizes, all posed around a large piece of pottery decorated with vague and unclear designs.

Other pictures displayed the...creatures leaping at the GAV, the pictures oddly angled, but displaying the things well enough. "We ended up having to drive the GAV right through them and crashed into the temple itself."

"And then Azzy started yelling about how we wouldn't defeat him and some other stuff," Jack shrugged. "Couldn't get a word in edge-wise with that guy, but it turned out that the whole thing was some kind of ritual to summon his army back to earth...or something."

Harriet twitched, staring at the blasphemously handsome face which bore red skin and black hair, mockingly trimmed to look like a civilized human being. Instead, the armor and blood-stained weapons he held as he strained against the doorway that hung in mid-air only seemed to detract from his affected humanity, making him look like a vicious animal.

Jack and Maddie continued the story as their children finished up dinner.

Completely obvious, the two Fentons explained some of their past exploits as the camera set in Harriet's purse recorded with aid from the microphone in her blouse...which was recording a news feed which was being transmitted to the satellite link-up back in their vehicle, to the major news station which Harriet Chin worked for, and on to national television...

**Marvel Phantom**

...or it would have, if S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't watching.

In another world, another time, another place...a billionaire genius philanthropist playboy would have called the man's expression 'constipated,' or, if he was feeling particularly impudent and childish, 'grumpy' would have worked as well. The analysts sitting at the table, though, had none of the gall to insult the terrifying, powerful, and _pissed-off_ man.

Brigadier-General Nick Fury, eye patch and all, looked at the assembled men and women with a thunderous expression on his face.

A lesser man would have been merely 'angry.'

Nick Fury did not do 'angry,' he moved straight to 'wrathful.'

And right now? He was in a mood the put even 'wrathful' to shame and left it cowering in the corner, weeping. Carefully and deliberately, Gen. Fury drew his sidearm, causing the assemblage to tense. With practiced motions the dark-skinned man checked that the weapon was loaded, a cartridge in the chamber, before setting the firearm on the table.

"Give me one good reason to not shoot all of you, right now."

The North American S.H.I.E.L.D Media Analysis and Threat Assessment Division swallowed collectively. As they remained quiet, Fury took the opportunity to continue, "because, this is not failure. When we fail, people die...and you all know that. I shouldn't have to explain it to you. This...situation which we find ourselves in is such a catastrophic clusterfuck that there does not exist a word in any language, let alone English, to describe it."

A neatly dressed man, slightly balding, took his cue and pressed a button. The screen behind Fury was suddenly ablaze with imagery.

"We have rioting in seven major American cities and twenty minor ones. European nations are facing a similar state. Every major first world nation is currently experiencing a run on grocery stores, gun stores, and emergency supply outlets. Major religious crises around the globe have flared up. O.P.E.C. is threatening long-established trade agreements. We have evidence that Section 13 is facing a large-scale mobilization for the first time in over thirty years. Do I need to go on or have I adequately described the state of the world for you?"

Another long silence.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is a peace-keeping force. To do this, ladies and gentlemen, we observe trends in science, technology, industry, society, the news outlets, religion, etc..." Fury paused. "We do this in case someone discovers a cheep way to create artificial nuclear reactor fuel in their attic. Or create a nano-machine swarm in an effort to cure cancer. Or redefine the concept of travel by publicizing cheap and efficient hover technology."

A room-wide wince.

"Or, just for instance, _punches a whole into another dimension in their basement and calls a press conference about it_." Another, harsher wince, almost a cringe. "We do this because such inventions have a large propensity to be used to disrupt the stability of the world."

Fury's glare sharpened, becoming almost murderous in its intensity.

"But," He said slowly. "I don't need to tell you this. Because this is your job."

He reached down to tap the firearm with a single finger.

"So, the question becomes...how did you fuck it up?"

A particularly brave, or stupid, man at the front adjusted his glasses and coughed once. "If I may, sir?"

"By all means," Fury nodded, his expression still that of a terrifyingly reasonable, calm, and intent man.

"The Fentons are...well, to put it bluntly, sir, they are our 'Nightmare Scenario.'" He explained. "Jack Fenton has been on a watch list since he was a child, mainly due to his father. His files take up gigabytes worth of space with false alarms and such. As intelligent as the Fentons are...they are also very stupid."

"Stupid," Fury repeated, in a prompting tone.

"Yes sir," The analyst replied. "They have demonstrated an incredible scientific myopia, focusing on furthering their paranormal research above and beyond any other field of study. We've know for years that they've developed some amazing technology, but other than the patents, they've made no move to profit from any of their inventions."

"And this 'press conference' that they held? It wasn't flagged?" Fury asked, curious.

"No sir," The analyst stated bluntly. "They specifically mentioned, and I quote, 'an important, world-changing, ghost-related discovery.' This would be the seventeenth such conference they've called. The first ten triggered flagged alerts and we dispatched a watchdog team as per regulation, but due to urging by the Central Committee to cut our operations budget, the Fentons and other such 'threats' were demoted to Level Green pending a reassessment every five years."

Fury nodded, still tapping the pistol as he submerged deep in thought.

"And this last debacle?" Fury asked finally.

"We caught the signal a few seconds in. Facial recognition picked out Jack and Madeline Fenton. After rerouting the signal, we got satellite imaging on the job and matched the identity of the other person to one Harriet Chin, a friend of theirs in college, who is now a reporter. After establishing that this was, in fact, an undercover interview, we cut the signal fully and recorded a full copy of it."

"Good," Fury nodded. "And what about this 'ghost' business?"

"We contacted R&D, Experimental Sciences, and a few other more...esoteric branches of Shield's research. They dug out some of the Fenton's old papers on the subject and, though they haven't published anything in six or seven years, their theories are largely sound. We're going to have to come down on the side that, although these people are incredibly eccentric, they're probably right."

Fury sighed, "Do we have a strategy, yet? Can we discredit them? Some way to bury this?"

"Unlikely," The man replied. The Fentons are coming off, at least in the preliminary responses we're looking at in Twitter, Facebook, and other social media, coming off as very 'relatable' and 'down to earth.' Unfortunately, it looks like the fickle force of mass media has responded in their favor. Some fringe groups are citing their previous failures, but it doesn't help that the Fentons have publicly apologized for any failures or mistakes they've made."

"I think this secret is out, sir," The balding man near the screen supplied.

"It better be the last one," Fury growled, then looked up to the group in the room. "It had better fucking be the last one I ever have to deal with. This is as bad as when we had to acknowledge H.Y.D.R.A. publicly as a terrorist group back in the seventies."

This time the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. sighed, a bone-deep weariness creeping into his frame. "Coulson? I want a full briefing on my desk about this whole fiasco on my desk in six hours. It's past time when we finished putting out these fires and started acting proactively. Dig up anything we have on this Azazel character and attach it. Then I want you and whoever is the local Fenton expert on a chartered flight to wherever that RV is headed. You are to meet with the Fentons and inform them that they are under a press blackout until further notice. Wherever they're going? Keep them there for...however long it takes us to deal with this mess."

Phil Coulson nodded, then glanced at his PDA, "Yes sir, although I might add that someone from the Vatican is on line three. Apparently they're calling in regards to a person connected with the attempted kidnapping of the Fenton's son. He's one of their rogues."

Fury actually winced at that. "And now we have a Vatican S.O.E. Agent running around near these kooks...what next?"

Coulson refrained from smiling, "They're also sending an agent from Section 4, Peter to meet with the Fentons. The matter of this 'Ghost Portal' has their Spiritual Invocation Division both very excited and very, very worried."

"Great," Fury growled.

**Marvel Phantom**

"Yes?" Harriet Chin asked with a dead tone, her eye still twitching spasmodically as she tapped the touchscreen of her phone, silencing the ringing.

_'Demons are real,'_ The thought echoed in her mind, consuming her thoughts.

Those same viral thoughts stopped abruptly as the voice on the other end of the line spoke. Her eyes widened, a fire which had been smoldering within them, almost extinguished, roared to life again. There was a faint buzzing in her ears as the voice, some no-name techie, explained the situation fully.

"What?!" She roared, almost startling Larry into driving off the road.

As he corrected the course, she listened still more intently, ending the conversation with an incoherent growl that might have been mistaken for 'good bye.' Her fingers curled around the smartphone in her grasp, threatening to crush it as her willpower fought against the nearly-overwhelming rage within her.

"I can't-I _actually believed them_!" Harriet shouted, nearly frothing at the mouth.

"Geez, Harrie, warn a guy next time," Larry cried back as he pulled to the side of the highway. "What the hell was that all about?"

"All of that shit!" Harriet growled, then narrowed her eyes, "And don't call me Harrie. Jack Fenton just played us for fools!"

"Huh?" Larry blinked, startled, "I don't really getcha, babe, everything seemed pretty legit to me. Photos, story, the whole deal."

"That was the studio on the phone!" Harriet yelled, slamming her hand onto the dashboard of the car. "Guess what? That satellite signal that you said would punch through a hurricane the size of Katrina couldn't knock out? Yeah, well the studio couldn't get a bit of reception. They said some kind of interference wiped the signal out, audio and video!"

Larry blinked, taken aback by the information. Staring off into the distance, he frowned thoughtfully. "Huh...weird."

"Weird? Weird?! Is that all you can say?" Harriet roared in disbelief, spittle flying from her mouth as she grabbed her cameraman by his shirt.

"Yeah?" Larry admitted in a confused tone.

Harriet dropped back into her seat, a puppet with its strings cut. "God save me from fools," she muttered derisively.

"Whaddya mean?" Larry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"It's obvious! The Fentons made up that entire piece of crap story! They were ready for someone to track them down. The entire thing was a bullshit distraction to keep us from asking questions about ghosts and we fell for it. Hook. Line. And. Sinker."

Larry's brows furrowed, "Boss, I don't think-"

"And what galls me is those pictures. I bet they laughed themselves drunk when they made those up on photoshop!" Harriet growled. "Demons! Ghosts! What's next? Dinosaurs? Superheroes? Ooh, ooh, I know! Aliens!" Her tone had turned mocking by the end, contrasting with the foul and nasty scowl on her face.

"Boss," Larry tried again, "We don't know for _sure _the Fentons busted the signal. I mean, it would have taken some serious hardware, like military-strength, to do something like that. What if it was, like, cosmic rays or a solar flare or something?"

"Cosmic rays?" Harriet asked in a dull tone. "How about you let me do the thinking Larry? I'm not even sure you know what those words even mean. Besides, what do you think they had in that massive RV-thing, anyway? Extra jumpsuits?"

Larry frowned, still ready to argue but not seeing much point in it.

He knew an exercise in futility when he saw one, after all.

He'd been married.

"Okay," he shrugged, "So what now, boss?"

Harriet quieted, then resolved. "We wait. They have to pass this way if they want to get out of here in the morning. Pull past that copse of trees there and we'll spend the night here."

"Oh," Larry sighed, and here he'd been hoping to see a little action tonight.

"And you're in the back as soon as we stop, buster," Harriet all but growled. "I've got some stress to work off."

"Yes mam," Larry replied stoically, doing his best to hide his grin.

**Marvel Phantom**

Danny yawned expansively, being careful to sit up slowly in the GAV bunk he'd slept in. Of course, it was either that or tents, and between the AC or the threat of monsters (some of which he had to believe were real, now, after what he'd seen) in the woods, both he and Jazz had opted to curl up in the fold-out double-bunk. His older sister, of course, took top bunk, as always. Still, that tradition meant he'd learned not to sit up quickly, lest he slam his head into the hard plastic of Jazz's sleeping spot.

_'...although, it had been hilarious when I hit my head that one time and the shock had startled Jazz into falling out of bed,'_ Danny grinned sleepily, inwardly glad just to have woken up solid, opaque, and earthbound.

Although the thought of 'earthbound' did remind him of a few...possibilities.

_'Maybe after I get over panic attacks every time I...transform,' _Danny decided quickly. While the thought of, well...flying was extremely enticing, he was also very aware of what could happen while he was high up in the sky. And, of course, if he didn't need to breath...his pulse quickened at the thought of an empty night sky above him, launching his form up and up and _up_...

"I might not need to wait on NASA," Danny murmured aloud. _'Maybe I should try flying sooner, rather than later. I mean, last time might have been a fluke or something. You know, just to make sure that I actually can.'_

"What was that honey?" Maddie asked as she passed the bunk.

"Nothing mom," Danny shrugged, throwing off the sudden spike of giddiness. "Just still kind of asleep."

"That's okay Danny," Maddie smiled. "You can go ahead and get some more sleep if you'd like. Jack's been driving for a few hours now and you sister isn't even up yet."

A groggy, "I'm awake," came from the upper bunk. Granted, it sounded closer to "immawaek."

"My mistake," Maddie smiled gently.

"Why'd you let us sleep in?" Danny asked, stretching. "When we go camping, we usually help you and dad break camp in the mornings."

"Well, Jack and I thought we'd put you kids through enough recently. Even if we can only give you a few late mornings to sleep in as a reward for putting up with us, we wanted to cut you a bit of slack considering how weird things are right now," Maddie explained softly, then on a more upbeat tone, added. "And, at any rate, Jack wanted you to be well rested when we meet your grandfather tonight."

Danny thought about arguing, but he really _had _been pretty beat yesterday, after the long drive and his little 'experiment,' and everything. Even though he didn't want his parents thinking this mess was their fault (when it was really his, after all), he settled for a subdued, "Thanks."

A fuzzy-headed, pajama-clad Jazz Fenton chose that moment to slide off the top bunk, cringing as her bare feet hit the cold plastic floor of the GAV. Squeaking, she slid back into Danny's bunk, rubbing at her chilled feet. Shaking her mussed hair, she gave a slightly more alert, "Okay, now I'm awake."

Which was subsequently ruined by a monstrous yawn issuing forth from her mouth.

Danny, his own form clad in boxers and an undershirt, pulled his blanket closer as Jazz tried to snatch a bit of it to cover her toes. "Get your own blanket, Jazz."

"But its cooold," she whimpered childishly, tugging at the cloth.

Maddie bit her lip, trying hard not to laugh as the normally-mature girl turned back into the somewhat-immature daughter she'd known for over a dozen years prior. There had been a reason why Jazz and Jack had gone off to do _SCIENCE_ while she and Danny watched horror movies and it had as much to do with the fact that Jazz liked to learn as with the fact that she was also a 'daddy's girl' back then.

Which, when you took into account Jack's silliness, mean that more than a little had rubbed off. It did her heart good to see that Jazz's fight to grow up as quickly as possible hadn't snuffed that out. Jazz had always been the more academically inclined of the two,which had probably lead to some of that, though Danny was surprisingly sharp when he wanted to be. Taking pity on her daughter, she pulled both the pillow and blanket from the upper bunk and passed them to the teenage girl.

Jazz made a noise which might have been construed as 'thank you,' if one was fluent in speaking through pillow stuffing, and Maddie moved off, back up to the front of the vehicle. "You kids take your time getting up, we've got about another ten hours. We should get into Salem by sundown."

"Cool," both Danny and Jazz replied in their own dialects of teenage slang.

As Danny relaxed back onto the bunk, curled slightly tighter to give his sister a bit more space, the silence between the two stretched to become slightly uncomfortable. Finally, ceding to the inevitable, Danny asked, quietly so their parents wouldn't overhear, "Why are you acting like this?"

"Acting like what?" Jazz asked, equally quiet as she sat up slightly, leaning her head against the opposite corner of the bunk, feeling the soothing cool metal on her forehead. An errant thought noticed how weird it was that cold could surprise her so badly, but feel so good when she expected it.

"You know, like you used to," Danny shrugged uncomfortably. "You bugged me all summer about my reading list and keeping my grades up when I get to high school and now you haven't mentioned anything like that in nearly a week. What gives?"

Jazz took so long in answering, that Danny almost thought she wasn't going to reply at all. Finally, Jazz moved a bit, hugging her legs to her chest and looking as vulnerable as Danny had seen her in a long time, her eyes even suspiciously wet. "Danny, I hate high school."

"Yeah, so?" Danny asked, confused.

"No Danny," Jazz replied, something dark in her eyes, "I really, really _hate high school_. I hate the teachers, I hate the students, I hate the _building_, Danny."

"Oh," Danny said, shocked at the...loathing in his sister's voice.

"They're horrible people," Jazz spat. "Loud, obnoxious, vain, arrogant, shallow little trolls that can't show an ounce of compassion." Now, tears were falling freely from her eyes. "I _hate them_ so much, Danny..."

His sister coughed up a strangled, quiet wail that stabbed at Danny's heart, the boy surging forward and, unthinkingly, grabbed Jazz in a tight hug. Jazz sobbed softly, grasping onto her brother like a rope thrown to a drowning woman. She was quietly mumbling, "I'm sorry," over and over, like some kind of mantra.

In a wet, painful voice, Jazz explained the torments of Casper High.

Spitballs had been a daily occurrence, befouling her clothes and staining her notes. Girls had bullied her, locking her in bathroom stalls, defacing her locker, stealing her gym clothes, and more. The jocks had made near-continuous passes at her, thinking her 'easy,' and various teachers had turned blind eyes to the treatment she'd endured, until she'd found a way to secure their protection. In the month after she'd started high school and for the rest of the year, she'd been a model student...no, even more than that. She'd set records for every test she'd taken, every exam they'd put before her had been passed with a hundred percent or better.

National level spelling achievements, rallies for every subject in school including some she hadn't even taken yet, academic prizes and scholastic honors from every corner. They'd made her valuable, untouchable even by the jocks. She was too important to be taunted and tormented then, given that she had her name on everything that wasn't football related in the awards cabinet.

But that didn't mean they had to like her.

That didn't mean she wasn't a Fenton.

It just turned her into an easy source for test answers, a lab partner that did all the work, or a study buddy that you could copy off of. And, true to form, teachers turned blind eyes towards the behavior. She was allowed to excel, true, and gain a measure of protection, but only at the cost of becoming an exploitable resource.

And all the while, her brother saw more than he needed to. As foreign as emotions like hate and anger and rage were to Danny, he could recognize them well enough. Slowly, like an unstoppable glacier, a bleak storm of fury unfurled, because...

...because, Jazz was _hurt_ in a real, material way, that he could _see_, even as mist and shadows stole across his vision. His sister was bright, inside, shining in a way that he couldn't really describe as light, but felt warm and human, but scattered across that warm light were...wounds.

Ugly black things that writhed like living cancers, that he'd never seen before. As Jazz poured her soul out to him, Danny reached out, slowly and carefully, to touch one of those ichor-like spots. As his hand made contact somewhere on her back-

-but not really _touching_ her, instead sliding his grasp in a direction that he hadn't known about, but couldn't only describe as _inside_-

-and his breath caught. He could still hear Jazz's soft voice, feel her clinging to him, but he was also somewhere else.

_'I could see him standing at the end of the hall,' _voice that wasn't Danny's own thought in his head. _'Why didn't I just go around the long way? I could have taken the tardy.'_

But the boy, the blonde-haired boy in a letterman jacket, that Danny couldn't 'see,' but could describe perfectly, had seen him (or was it _her_?) and was walking in this direction, now. His blood chilled as he recognized Dash Baxter, an infamous high school bully who had made his life hell for years, taking a particular pleasure in hunting him down even while Danny himself was in middle school.

Nervousness, anxiety, and desperation welled up within the ghost-boy, but they had the tang of foreign emotions, borrowed feelings. _'Why doesn't he just go away? Dash could have any girl in the school, easy, why does he have to look at me?'_

Because he did look, she (_he_?) knew, could feel his eyes on her (_him_?) during lunch everyday, thankfully the only thing they had in common. Crushing the anxiety, he (_she_?) settled her face into the cold mask that served as a polite, but distant facade...to protect her. To keep anyone from getting to close, close enough to hurt her.

_"Hey, Jazz," he smirked, an arrogant grin sliding over his face, even as his appearance distorted. _Danny felt fear and terror steal across his field of vision, swirling up as they tried to overcome the image, make it something monstrous and terrible, something inhuman. Focusing his will in some instinctual way, Danny quelled the emotions and the vision returned to normal.

_"Dash,"_ He heard his sister's voice say, even as she was already speaking to him, her tears staining his undershirt. _"What do you want?"_

It was a blank tone, one devoid of inflection and feeling.

_"Just wanted to come check on everyone's favorite brain," _He said, obviously trying to be charming. _"Hey, me and a couple of the guys were heading up to the lake tomorrow, get ready for the big game on Sunday, ya'know? Why don't you come with?"_

_"Sorry," _He heard his sister's voice say, still in that painfully blank tone of voice, _"I have to study. World History test on Monday, Algebra on Tuesday."_ As she bluntly informed him, Danny's viewpoint tried to move past him, only to have a muscled arm audibly slap the painted cinder block wall, barring her way.

A spike of fear shot through him (_her_?).

_"I think you study too much,"_ Dash offered, his tone sickeningly sweet. _"One night out won't hurt."_ Another hand reached out, touching her right arm firmly.

Sickness, nausea, building in his gut.

_"I don't see how your opinion matters," _Jazz honestly, coolly.

Something dark, greedy flashing in Dash's eyes, and his touch turned into a grip, tight but not bruising. _"Look freak, I'm trying to be nice here. You play ball and I can make things go better around here for you."_

Anger, blossoming into hate.

_"Ms. Fenton, Mr. Baxter,"_ another voice, this one older and belonging to a bald, overweight teacher, one of the few who might have a shred of decency somewhere inside him. _"Both of you, get to class, bell's about to ring."_

Mr. Lancer, the teacher, looked towards her-but not at her, never meeting her eyes, shame coloring his expression-and watched as the two teens separated. Dash, turned away from the teacher and eyes bright with dark promise, mouthed, _"Later freak."_

And, suddenly, Danny was back holding his sister tightly, listening to her soft tears and even softer pleas for forgiveness. Carefully, more so than before, he wrapped his arms around Jazz more tightly, feeling his own throat tighten and eyes moisten. He didn't touch the other wounds...and there were others, many, many more.

Some, almost malignant, cancerous, that Danny to his shame, shied away from.

Something _broke_ inside Danny at that point, something he didn't even know existed.

A cynical person might call it naivete. A kind person might call it faith in humanity.

Regardless of either, it was the tiny unquestioning voice that said people were _good_, that people were _decent_. It said something about the durability of such a trait in Danny that it had taken so much to break it, but seeing his sister, the girl who'd played games with him almost everyday when they were young, who always had time for her little brother's (sometimes annoying, admittedly) questions, who had probably made more edible meals for him than _both their parents combined_ when the two adults were tied up in the lab...

Seeing someone like that reduced to a broken shell after a year of cold-blooded torment and turned into someone who didn't smile, who only knew how to use a book to block out the world around her...

"...and when I realized that things would be different for you," Jazz finished in a quiet voice, "I..."

"...hated me," Danny filled in, not blaming his sister one ounce for it, but tightening the hug, now almost bruising, all the same.

"No!" Jazz almost yelled, but caught herself at the last minute, translating it to an especially fierce whisper. The word was punctuated as she pulled away from her brother, slightly, to look him in the eyes. "No...maybe I hated mom and dad, just a little, but not you Danny. I might have...resented you," she winced, pain flashing in her eyes, "but I never hated you. You're my little brother."

"It was never your fault," Jazz finished, collapsing into a ball of sadness and pain curled up against the side of the bunk.

"But I didn't do anything to help," Danny argued, thinking on Dash Baxter's face and how it had brought him so much misery. He honestly didn't care that Dash had turned his school experience into a waking nightmare of near-constant bullying, but...if that person showed up near Jazz again. _'I wonder how hard it would be to kill him,'_ an alien part of his mind wondered, momentarily scaring him.

Had he really thought that?

Or had it been his...other half?

And wasn't that a chilling thought? That he might not be in complete control of himself. It wasn't something he'd considered before and he shied away from the thought, pushing it to the back of his mind. _'Talk to Jazz now, think about that later, or never...'_

"I wouldn't have let you," Jazz admitted as Danny nudged over to sit next to her. They weren't hugging anymore, barely making contact with each other, actually. The intensity of Jazz's pain had faded into a deep ache that Danny could see pulse in time with her heartbeat, but it was..._clean_, he could tell, like a lanced wound. "I didn't want you to know, Danny. Older siblings are supposed to...strong. They're not supposed to let, to let you get hurt."

It was a weak excuse from someone who had been afraid, and they both knew it.

Of course, Jazz probably didn't know that Danny knew. The youngest Fenton had never been an insightful person, and his sister had no reason to suspect that had changed, but it had. Danny had _felt_ what she had felt, had _lived _with that fear, however momentarily.

Danny swallowed, his throat tight and couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Promise you won't tell mom and dad...they'd, they'd get angry." Jazz whispered, her hand latching onto Danny's, her voice small and pleading.

"Okay," Danny whispered, "but I want you to tell me, if anything else happens."

"It shouldn't," Jazz rationalized. "We're not going to school in Amity Park anymore...that's why I told you. I wanted, I had to tell someone and...I'm sorry for how I've been acting. I know I've been...cold." Here, the tears started again, slowly, as she laid her head on Danny's shoulder. "I...just want my little brother back."

"I-" Danny choked, his eyes getting glassy. "I never left, Jazz."

Jazz made a noise that was somewhere between a giddy laugh and a heartbreaking sob, burying her face in Danny's shoulder. For a vague and hazy period, the two siblings sat next to each other, Jazz taking comfort in her brother's presence, and Danny trying desperately to think of something to do, something to say, that could fix it.

Eventually, Jazz stirred, sliding out of the spot she'd taken on Danny's bed and hissing as her feet touched the cold plastic floor. "Thanks, Danny...I'm going to go clean up, I must look horrible."

Danny nodded, rallying admirably, "Try not to use up all the hot water, I still want a shower after you."

Jazz flashed him a brilliant smile, basking in the normalcy of her brother's words.

Grinning impishly, she winked, "No promises."

And then she disappeared, cornering the cabinets and stepping into the bathroom. Almost immediately, he could faintly hear the sink start running. Just to be safe, he waited another minute before speaking, apparently to thin air, but actually targeting the bright light he could 'see'...much of the same warmth as was within Jazz, but subtly different and tinged with emotional pain and heartache.

That would have to be his next thing to figure out, he realized, trying to ignore the weirdness of _seeing_ something that wasn't even physically _there_.

"Hey mom."

A startled gasp and a moment where embarrassment crept his mother's 'light.' And that would be the next thing to work on, he sighed, figuring out how he _knew_ what he could 'see' was his mother.

"D-danny," Maddie stuttered, stepping around the cabinets, where she'd ducked when Jazz had headed to the shower. "How l-long did you know I was there?" She wasn't wearing her goggles and, as such, the redness around her eyes was very visible.

Danny shrugged, embarrassed at seeing so much vulnerability from Jazz first, and now his mother, two people he'd always considered so strong. "Does it matter?"

Maddie frowned, but conceded the point, "I suppose not. I...I don't suppose you'd like to tell me how _you _were treated at school." Here, her eyes were sharp, glistening with unshed tears, but piercing in a way all mothers' could be.

"Not really," Danny shrugged, somewhat sullenly.

Now Maddie scowled. "Daniel James Fenton, as soon as your sister gets out, your father is going to stop this Ghost Assault Vehicle and we're going to-"

"No," Danny interrupted his mother bluntly, trying to ignore the shivering nervousness at doing so, that any child would feel at standing up to their parent. _'But I have to...I have to."_

"No?" Maddie blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in Danny's voice and eyes. A fire lit in her eyes a second later, anger coming to the fore. "Now see here, mister-"

"Mom," Danny said quietly, his tone firm...almost grim. "Jazz doesn't need that."

Of all the things that he could have said, that was perhaps the only one which could stop his mother in her tracks, extinguishing her temper before it could truly get started. Her hand, which has been poised to start gesturing accusingly, dropped limply at her side.

"Jazz doesn't need to be raked over the coals anymore. She just wants to...she just wants it all to go away. Please don't do this." It was soft, pleading, but there was a hint of steel in his voice.

Pain blossomed somewhere in that strange direction again, flashing over Maddie's light in a color he couldn't name, but tasted (_tasted, oh god he was going to be sick_) of bitter sadness, helpless anger, and a pain like a knife twisting in his gut. "Danny," Maddie said, equally quiet, "I can't just..."

"You have to," Danny urged, desperation now entering his voice even as he hated how it sounded, like a kid trying to play 'grownup' in his dad's suit...or jumpsuit, in this case.

"Danny," Maddie objected half-heartedly. "Jack and I...we do want the best for you, I...I wanted to make sure you knew that, right?" There was something fragile, brittle, in her voice.

"I know," intellectually, at least, Danny did. He knew his parents loved him, but sometimes they...well, they didn't _forget_ exactly, but...things got in the way. "Mom, Jazz and I are-"

He wanted to say 'okay,' but they both knew he'd be lying.

"-we're dealing. I think, if we don't have to go back to Amity, to school or whatever, then...that'll be a lot better, at least." Danny decided, making the statement as neutral as possible.

"You'll go back to that school over my dead body," Maddie growled, suddenly fierce again, thought that flare burned itself out as quickly as it came. "Danny...if I, God, I can't believe I'm saying this, but if I forget about this...if I pretend it never happened, you'll be there for Jazz, won't you?"

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but his mother cut him off this time.

"-and the _second_ something like that happens again, _to either of you_, you get me or your father and you tell us." It was an order, a command from on high that was laced with a hundred different emotions Danny couldn't even identify, save resignation, which flared the brightest. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes mam," Danny nodded, meeting her gaze evenly.

After another second of consideration, she swept him up in a hug, muttering something along the lines of, "I'm never letting you two out of the house again," before releasing him and retreating back to the front with Jack.

And leaving Danny alone, sitting on the bunk, wallowing in the painful reminders that he wasn't human, at least not entirely. He was something...different, now. Something that had, for a brief moment, considered killing someone else.

And, deep down in that dark cold space between his heart and mind, was still toying with the idea.

Danny swallowed reflexively, fighting down the bile that rose up. He was proud of the fact that he was able to hold it in until Jazz stepped out of the shower, dressed in another Fenton jumpsuit, of which they'd packed several days worth in addition to normal clothes. As soon as she was out, Danny stepped in after trading a teasing barb with his sister, her smile brighter than it had been in months.

Then he flicked on the shower, the rush of water covering the noise he made-

-as he kneeled in front of the toilet and vomited.

_'What the hell am I?'_ He asked himself for the umpteenth time.

**Marvel Phantom**

Even with the unwelcome revelations of Jazz's treatment at high school, the tone of the trip was surprisingly upbeat considering that the Fentons were essentially fleeing with all due haste away from the media vultures who had driven them from their home. Jazz, as a concession to Danny and their attempts to rebuild their sibling relationship, had taken a turn on the handheld game Danny had brought. After losing a few matches of the latest fighter game, Jazz had proven incredibly adaptive, redeeming her hilariously bad performance earlier.

In exchange, Jazz had conned her brother into a game of travel-sized Scrabble with magnetic pieces, which he lost handedly, even after Jazz reluctantly let him use proper nouns. Surprisingly, Danny actually won the subsequent game of chess, though Jazz took him easily in the majority of the card games they played, primarily due to the fact that Danny had a very poor poker face.

By that point, most of the day had passed and they were nearing their destination.

Salem, given its notoriety as a hotspot for witches, demons, ghosts, and all things spooky, celebrated Halloween early. Even though it was only late August, store displays were beginning to be put out, mannequins dressed in black gowns with point hats set on street corners, and other such decorations had been erected.

Of course, for the Fentons, the displays lacked a certain...authenticity.

"So this is where you grew up, dad?" Jazz asked, forever interested in academic pursuits.

Jack grunted, scowling at the town around him. "Hasn't changed a bit. Still a cesspit of commercialism."

Danny and Jazz's eyes widened, surprised at the bleak tone their normally boisterous father had taken. "I thought," Danny tried carefully, wary of irritating his father, "That you and mom would be happy about this? Doesn't it...raise awareness of the supernatural and paranormal?"

The last bit sounded suspiciously like it had been quoted, probably from something either of their parents had said.

Jack looked about to yell, but swallowed his anger. "Danny, this type of stuff...its not scientific or beneficial, nor does it aid in people's understanding of a normally esoteric subject."

"Jack's right," Maddie nodded. "While we don't mind Halloween that much, such rampant consummerism obfuscates any real insight that people could benefit from. Instead, this type of...carnival atmosphere perpetuates unscientific myth and legend."

"Huh," Danny commented intelligently.

Jack shrugged, throwing off the irritation, "But, yeah, this is the homestead, well...at least until I was sixteen. When I was sixteen, I moved out, got a job, and took out an apartment in Boston. That's actually where I finished up highschool and met Harrie. Your mother and I didn't meet until about two years later when we both got into Wisconsin University with Vl-."

Jack swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable as Maddie shifted in her seat, tense.

"With who dad?" Jazz asked, curious, but wondering at their body language.

"With Harrie!" Jack cried, grinning. "Boy, was she ever surprised when we met up at the student union! She was so excited that she screamed and fainted, couldn't believe it!"

"Uh-huh," Danny nodded doubtfully, but not pressing any further as he traded a telling glance with his sister.

"Ooh kids, look, the Salem Witch Museum!" Maddie gushed suddenly, pointing across the street as they went by.

Jazz and Danny couldn't help themselves, even knowing it was an obvious distraction. Their eyes shot to follow their mother's finger, looking through the cab windows from where they were seated behind their parents. Sure enough, coming up on their left was a looming redstone church that towered above the smaller surrounding buildings. Decorated with the statue of a caped crone in a pointy hat, it left little doubt as to the identity of the building.

But, as was the case so often now, Danny couldn't help but see _more_...

He had thought Jazz's...trauma was bad enough, but those transparent wounds had nothing on what he was seeing know. His breath caught as he saw the utter..._malignancy _of the building was beyond anything he'd previously thought existed. He almost couldn't see the building for the twisting darkness hovering in the air around it and clinging to the structure itself. Whispers and death-sweet smells wafted over him, tugging at something that wasn't sight, smell, hearing-

And he felt eyes on him.

Well, not...eyes, exactly, but certainly a twisted and hateful _attention_ from something _beyond._

Danny shivered and collapsed back into his seat as the building passed, glad beyond words to be away from the horrid place. Jazz clung slightly to the window, smiling, "Wow, so that was the church, huh? Where it all happened?"

"Nope," Jack grinned. "Never actually been there. That place is a remolded church built in...the early eighteen hundreds?" Jack's eyes grew distant with recall before nodding decisively. "Yeah, about a hundred and twenty or so years after the Witch Trials, but there's a lot of stuff from the witch trails in there. Manuscripts of the proceedings, personal belongings, the hangman's booth, and other stuff. But, no, the actual trials weren't held in Salem, or at least...Salem today."

"Huh?" Jazz asked, now curious.

"Jazz," Maddie smiled, "This area is which was known as 'Salem Town' back in the day, but it's a common misconception that the Witch Trials occurred in a church at all. The witch trials were still _trials_, after all and, as such, they happened at a courthouse."

"Oh," Jazz blushed, unused to having missed such an obvious detail. "Then where's the courthouse?"

"That's where we're going," Jack sighed, guiding the massive vehicle carefully off the main road and out of the primary city of Salem, passing a sign that said 'Danvers, Massachusetts.' The GAV kept going, traveling thirty minutes from the center of Salem, now in an entirely different world than the urban sprawl they had just left. There was much more greenery, though that was contrasted by the setting sun and stretching shadows, painting the stretches of pasture land and trees in a growing darkness.

The family watched as Jack maneuvered, heading towards a small copse of trees that concealed a side road with 'private drive' warning signs. Heading down the somewhat ominous dirt road, and finally hitting a cutoff, where the road forked into a more well-trodden gravel path and an overgrown...path. Granted, the offshoot looked like it had been cut and occasionally used, but nowhere near enough to turn it even into even a dirt path. Green grass grew along the 'road' and the 'copse of trees' had somehow turned into a much larger forest suddenly. To the right, a sign said:

"Salem National Park and Forestry Nature Reserve – No Trespassing"

The left, grassy path, was tellingly left unmarked.

"Are you sure this is the right way, Jack?" Maddie asked, narrowing her eyes as her husband clicked on the headlights. For some reason the fading light of sunset created an environment wherein all of the Fenton family were intimately aware of the growing darkness and reaching shadows. Danny shivered as they started down the grassy path slowly, Jack driving even more carefully now.

"You betcha," Jack grunted lowly, not smiling, but focused on the path all the same. "Dad...well, the Fenton family, I suppose, owns all this land. A lot of it is leased to the State of Massachusetts as a nature reserve as long as they keep people out and such, but at the center of it...home sweet home."

There was a mocking lilt to his voice.

"Oh," Maddie exhaled, her eyes going wide as the forest parted suddenly. The ten minutes of monotonous travel was suddenly halted by a massive pale gray brick wall some twenty feet high and utterly nondescript. A massive set of ancient-looking wooden doors were set in the front section of the wall, silver script over top it, which was only possible to read because of the twin flickering oil lamps, set on either side of it.

_Bloodblossom Court_

"That's the outer wall," Jack explained. "Made of something called Silverstone. John Fenton-Nightingale had it shipped over from England; the stuff is supposed to resist spiritual entities. Legend has it an...Alchemist," Jack grimaced on the word, "somewhere back in the family made the stuff and built a castle out of it somewhere in Europe."

"Wow," Danny murmured quietly, his eyes locking onto the glowing spirals set into the material that glowed with a piercing silver light that didn't seem to illuminate anything. He opened his mouth to ask about them, before swallowing the question and shaking his head.

_'They probably can't see it,'_ Danny realized as he tried to push away the extra 'layer' which had become commonplace over the last days. Indeed, after a moment of fighting, he could see the wall rendered back into 'normal' colors and lighting. Still, the effort of holding it back was too much to keep up and his concentration wasn't up to the task.

"So what now?" Danny asked.

"Now...I knock," Jack said, but made no move to step out of the vehicle.

"Jack," Maddie said softly, "We don't have to do this, you know? We can get a hotel or something, take out a loan. We can turn around right now."

"No, Mads," Jack replied, almost instantly, forcing himself to open the door. "We all gotta' face our demons sometime."

In the light of the GAV's high beams, his family watched as Jack Fenton walked up to his ancestoral home. Each step was a battle for him. Part of him, a large part, wanted to do exactly as Maddie had suggested, but another more insistent voice argued against it. He did need to 'face his demons,' as he had said, even if it meant making peace with his old man.

The house, at least, was exactly as he'd remembered it, though perhaps a bit less intimidating, though he hadn't really expected anything to change. Approaching the hidden sconce in the wall, he reached in and pulled the cap off a polished brass speaker. Not unlike the communications systems used in early metal ships and zeppelins, this tube would carry his voice to the telegraph room, which had been the only allowance for the electrical revolution.

"Open up," Jack called down the tube, before he could chicken out. "It's Jack Fenton."

His ultimatum given, Jack recapped the tube and returned to the driver's seat before anyone could respond. Scowling he and his family waited for several minutes until a man dressed in gardener's clothes appeared from within, dragging the massive wooden gates open with sheer muscle power. His task done, the burly individual walked up to Jack's door.

Their eyes met as the slightly older man's weather-worn expression crinkled into a smile. "The young Heir Jack Fenton, as I live and breathe. And the lovely lady, Mrs. Madeline, correct?"

Maddie blushed, while Jack rolled his eyes. "Roy, I was wondering if you were still hanging around. Never did figure out what the old man had on you to keep you on payroll."

"Good to see you too," Roy grinned. "Told ya' afore, Jack, the Lord ain't got nothin' on me. There ain't many a place where you can get full room and board nowadays besides the good money."

"Right, right," Jack waved off, apparently not believing him. "So..." Jack exhaled, not quite sighing, "...the old man's gonna' let us in?"

He was a little surprised, given the circumstances he'd left under.

"Things change, Jackie," Roy said solemnly, despite the childhood nickname. "So, gonna' introduce me to your kids? I got the marriage announcement, but ya' seem to 'ave forgotten your old pal Roy after that."

Jack shrugged uncomfortably, "Things change." The words were soft, apologetic.

"I'm not sore, Jackie," Roy rolled his eyes now, grinning. "Just wanna' meet your sprogs. How bout it? I always knew everything 'afore your paw anyway."

Jack snorted, then pointed to his wife. "Well, to make the introduction formal, this is Maddie." He pointed to Jazz, "And this is Jasmine, though you can call her Jazz or Jazzy-pants, but then she'll flush just like that." Despite herself, his eldest daughter's face was aflame now, though Jack had already moved on. "And Daniel, but you can call him Danny or Dan-o."

Roy leveraged himself up onto the step of the GAV and reached through the driver's side window, shaking Maddie, Jazz, and then Danny's hands, though his eyes widened slightly when he looked at Danny and he almost fell back to the ground.

"Well, I'll be," He whispered lowly. "That takes me back. He's the spittin' image of you Jackie; a thin little string bean that'll probly fall over with a stiff breeze."

If anyone else had said it, Danny might have felt his hackles rise, but there was a warmth about the man, much like his family, though it was less apparent... _'But then, I've only really looked at mom, dad, and Jazz like this. Dad and mom's old friends...I don't think I could see much in them either, just a little bit around the edges...I wonder if I'm getting better or if it only works on people I'm close to?'_

Another thing to add to his growing list of 'questions.'

"Well, don't let me hold you up," Roy grinned, stepping back down.

"You wanna' ride in?" Jack offered.

"Nah," Roy brushed the offer off. "Gotta' close the gates, ya'know."

Jack sighed, but nodded, shifting the GAV into gear and moving forwards, through the massive gates. As they passed, Danny felt a..._pressure_ built on him, pushing him back into his seat. Even as he moved to catch his breath or call out, or something...the pressure passed, as though it had never been. Danny swallowed, shaking himself as his eyes flicked back to the massive stone wall.

When he heard his mother and sister gasp, he too turned back, facing forward as he saw-

It was like something out of a fairy tale, Danny thought distantly. It turned out that the outer wall was much larger than he'd thought, encompassing a massive tract of land and a second wall. Between the stone fortification and the tasteful, but smaller brick inner wall, was a stretch of tamed grassy field dotted with statuary, cylindrical blocks with flowing script, and angelic figures holding oil lamps, which provided enough light to draw the startling contrast between light and dark that dreams and nightmares were made of.

The inner wall was red brick, though little of it was actually visible underneath the vast stretches of Bloodblossom vines climbing the structure. All told, the ten foot high wall probably held more of the rare plant than anyone believed existed in the world. Even the inner gate had been built such that the arch was coated with Bloodblossom vines and a low-lying bridge crossed a deep trench that was filled with the thorny plant.

As they crossed the second threshold, Danny's eyes widened, peering into the odd spectrum he'd discovered and saw an an enormous, transparent red-tinged field that arched over the inside of the large compound. It was a thin, wispy barrier that he wouldn't have given another thought to, save for the increasing pressure that had settled on him again.

This time, it wasn't an invasive thing, rather like an external weight pressing down on him. He shivered as he made the connection, _'Bloodblossom is supposed to ward off ghosts and I'm...what, half-ghost? I better not try anything while I'm here, if I can feel the...whatever it is right now, I don't want to know what it'd do when I change.'_

The bridge, a thick stone path, continued over a stretch of water that lapped silently at the inner side of the brick wall. As they passed, Maddie cooed softly at the double rows of gas lights on either side of the stone structure. "It's fed from an underground stream," Jack explained. "In the old legends, running water is supposed to ward off creatures of the night, like ghosts. The entire place is some kind of anti-ghost fortress, at least, if you believe that magicky muckity-muck."

_'That's such a good sign,'_ Danny thought derisively, finding himself firmly on the side of, 'seeing is believing.'

And then they could see it, and Danny hardly believed it.

It was a manor house, though the sheer size of the structure almost made them apply the term 'castle' to the building instead. They had been so wrapped up in the immediate architecture that none of the newcomers had taken advantage of their distance to gander at the comparatively tall central building. Stretching away to multiple wings, the core of the structure rose to a crest at four stories, all of them cast of large stone blocks that appeared to be regular gray granite rather than the Silverstone from the outer wall. Trellises climbed some of the exterior, more Bloodblossom clinging to them, but not so much as to make the house look overgrown.

Off to the sides stretched two, slightly shorter 'branches' of the house, forming a 'U-shaped' courtyard complete with a gravel drive which slowly curved back on itself. The entire structure was decorated with Gothic crenelations, complete with deformed gargoyles and other dark-age designs.

"Home sweet home," Jack repeated softly, reverently, almost painfully.

The Fentons had come to Bloodblossom Court.

* * *

"Okay!" Slayer Anderson appears in a cloud of dark smoke, ala Darkwing Duck, coughing, "Yeah, that wasn't a good idea."

Reaching to grab a bottle of water, he takes a large drink. "Now, things are heating up. This chapter sees a little bit of departure from Danny's point of view, which might be startling for some readers. Granted, that should be offset by the fan-squeals of 'OMG Nick Fury and Shield!' So yeah, about my interpretation of everyone's favorite shadowy government agency: There's a lot of work that goes into making the world 'safe,' especially in a world with actually deities that pop up occasionally like in Marvel. Shield, in my opinion, does a lot of work that they don't get credit for."

Images appear of various Marvel genii (pick your favorite Marvel smart people and imagine them), "Like these guys, for instance. In the real world, these guys would be producing things which would endanger national security, especially if they got up to the really dangerous shenanigans. Remember in Iron Man 2? When Fury gets pissed at Tony Stark (yeah, I know, which time? haha, everyone's a comedian) for letting James Rhodes 'steal' a suit of armor? Shield is probably a big reason why there's such a status quo is God thing in Marvel...because they enforce it as much as they can. Status quo is good, status quo is predictable for an agency like Shield. That means they know when and where problems are going to come at them, which means they can focus on prevention rather than just reacting to problems. Can you imagine if the American Government got Iron Man specs? Yeah, no offense to anyone in the military or intelligence here, but...how long did it take Russia to get the Atomic Bomb after we had it? Yeah, thought so."

"My main point," Slayer explains, "is that scientific advancement has a tendency to proliferate in a world like ours. Look at the guy who made a gun you can print with a 3-D printer, the design is now online and you can download it. Think about the implications of that when you consider the Fenton Ghost tech. Shield would not want that kind of crap in any of the world's military's pockets, let alone on the open market, but...the Fentons have always been kind of weird and, this time at least, they underestimated Murphy's Law."

"I have no idea whether this is anywhere close to canon or not, but Marvel has so many different universes that I feel pretty good playing fast and loose with some of the rules here, as you may have noticed. The whole thing with Jazz kind of ties into my dislike of canon in some respects. Go back and look at DP canon...how many friends does Jazz have? Can't find any? Yeah, the only ones I see are the weird kids that she bugs as part of community service or something. There is that episode where Dash finds her attractive, but that comes and goes pretty quickly...likely because Jazz really was only interested in tutoring him...not any side benefits. Also, it gave me a good chance to display some of Danny's non-canon powers...which focus on the idea that, as a ghost, Danny is aware of a lot of things that normal humans just can't see."

"And...I'm pretty sure that's it. For those of you who are interested and haven't checked my other stories, I've got a DC Phantom story going on which is primarily a Danny Phantom/Teen Titans crossover, but expands into the entire DC 'verse. Now that my papers, finals, and other teacher stuff is done I will have more time to write and read and goof off...we'll see if any of that writing actually gets done or not. (crosses fingers) Hope so!"

Read & Review

-Slayer Out!


	5. Chapter 5

Slayer Anderson

Marvel Phantom Chapter 5

A Danny Phantom/Marvel 'Verse Crossover

05/05/2013

Chapter V – Relics From Ages Past

There were many things that made Nick Fury a foul-tempered, irritable, and overall unlikable sort of man. When one was in a position like his, they had to be conscious of every threat. No one could go overlooked, as the current situation proved. Even the Fentons, a relatively mild threat, had thrown the world into chaos. Granted, it was a type of useful chaos that was letting his agents move more freely and visibly than otherwise possible. Already, they had moved to apprehend terrorist targets, a H.Y.D.R.A. base, and rescue a few political prisoners from foreign governments while the world was coping with the 'Fenton Revelation.'

Yes, chaos could be beneficial.

But the status quo couldn't change.

And usually? The status quo didn't change, because the world didn't change, because the world was made up of people.

And people _never _changed.

Already, grifters and con men were coming out of the woodwork, promising a 'new life after death' and other such insanity that would 'guarantee' the recipient an afterlife in which they could enjoy all the amenities of a posh lifestyle in the here-after. 'Death Insurance,' had been the most amusing by far. There had been a sudden boom in 'ghost hunters' as well, similar scum of the earth who preyed on opportunity and weakness caused by the current circumstances.

'Licensed Exorcists.'

'Spirit Warders.'

People trying to leave money to their own ghosts...

The list went on and on, but it all boiled down to making a quick buck. You got ghosts? I can get rid of them, just need your credit card, ID, and social security number. It was enough to make a man sick.

Thankfully, Fury had a rather strong stomach for this kind of vileness.

"Sir, he's here," Phil Coulson, his 'good eye,' called from outside. There was something in his voice, a kind of perverse amusement, as he spoke. No one other than someone intimately familiar with the various tones of deadpan seriousness could discern the hidden grin within it.

"Send him in," Fury called. Soon, he'd see what was so funny.

Although he probably wouldn't find it so, but he'd let Coulson have his little joke.

As the man walked in, Fury's scowl deepened as his suspicions were confirmed.

He really didn't find it funny...

...and he was going to have words with Coulson after this. As the gray-haired man sat down, Fury noted the slight discoloration in his eyes, the mark of having one cryogenically frozen. Back when they had first been exploring the process, there was some slight tissue damage associated with the process. If, say, one had an eye removed to put in a combination recording device, homing signal, and micro-explosive, then if the eye was ever unfrozen, it would look slightly paler.

"Brigadier-General Fury," the man spoke respectfully, though there was a glint of a mocking smirk...

Not necessarily directed at him, but more at the situation itself.

Fury could see where one might find humor in such an environment, but, personally, he didn't appreciate it. Not one bit.

At Fury's stoney silence, the other man continued. "I hope this is important. I was fishing, you know. Fishing is a very...retired-person activity."

"I can imagine," Fury grated out. "Any bites?"

"Not a one," the man smiled, honestly pleased with the result.

Then there was silence, a kind that lingered and became a contest of wills.

"So, what do I call you?" Fury finally asked, willing to concede a small a defeat to this man.

Perhaps the only man he would ever consider doing so to.

"John." He grinned "Johnathan J. O'Neill, but you can call me Jack. Formerly of the United States Air Force, Retired. Officially, at least. Unofficially, well...you know."

"So I see," Fury nodded briskly, reaching for the multi-inch thick file that Phil Coulson had handed him without looking at the man. Stamped on the manilla folder were innumerable national seals, each with their own equivalent of 'Top Secret.' Over top all of those stamps was a much more prominent one, which read 'R.E.D.' Clipped to the inside of the page was a picture of a blue-suited man of much younger years, wearing a gold emblem of an eagle with spread wings. Fury had no doubt this was probably the only such file in existence, though if you scraped up secret files from every nation on earth, you might just get a rough approximation of its contents.

Retired Extremely Dangerous didn't even _begin _to cover it, Fury knew.

"So why call me out after all this time? I was pretty sure I'd earned more than a few years of peace and quiet." Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Fenton," Fury replied shortly, still looking over the file idly.

Some of it read like a bad spy pulp novel from three decades ago. Unsurprising, of course, given who he was reading about.

"Fenton," Jack O'Neill nodded. "I've seen the news, what about them?"

"You're evidently the only one who ever took them seriously," Fury commented blandly, still taking his measure.

"I took William Fenton seriously," Jack replied, leaning back in the chair. "I was attached to his unit during WWII, back when we were both snot-nosed brats. It's hard not to take a guy like him seriously, especially when you save each others' lives a few times. We named our kids after each other, you know."

"Interesting," Fury nodded, looking up, "though I would be more interested in his son, actually. What do you about your apparent namesake, Jack Fenton?"

"Smart kid," Jack commented blandly, "He had a bad break up with his dad way back, can't really blame him. Will could be a hard guy to get on with sometimes. I don't suppose I still have enough clearance to ask 'why' do I?

"You probably haven't seen much of it in your tiny little corner of the world, but Shield is still here, dealing with the big problems. Right now, the Fentons are a big problem. Still, I find it interesting that you mention Mr. Fenton and his senior don't get along as all indications lead to the Fenton family heading to Bloodblossom Court as we speak." Fury watched carefully as he explained the situation, noting the surprise tangible on Jack's face.

"Well I'll be damned," the retired Brigadier-General muttered. "Would have thought it'd take the rapture to get that kid back there."

"Depending on who you listen to, that may be only days away," Fury noted dryly.

Jack made a face, "That ghost business you mean? Yeah, you guys dropped the ball on that-"

"H.Y.D.R.A. Seventy-five," Fury threw out, nor revealing his pleasure in seeing the older man stop cold.

"That was an entirely different situation and you know it," Jack replied eventually, his gaze steely and irritated.

Fury saw, in a flash, a memory of what this man had been and still was...buried deep beneath the facade of a eighty-something retired general. His respect for the man rose a few notches. "Regardless, we all 'drop balls' as you put it, but we also have to put those balls back into play. Do you think you're available to play wide receiver again? For old times sake?"

Jack blinked, taken off-guard by the request before bursting out laughing.

After a moment, he settled down, still scarcely able to believe the turnaround on his off-hand comment. "Gotta give it to you, you're sharp, Fury. Course, that's why I recommended you."

Fury's eye widened, a rare moment of shock breezing through.

"But yeah," Jack nodded, standing and stretching. "I'll call Sam, she'd be glad to look up an old friend." With that, he made to leave. "Better get going then, there anything in particular you want me to ask?"

"Coulson has a detailed briefing," Fury replied.

He let Jack get to the door before asking his next question, "You don't want to say hello to your granddaughter?"

Jack froze, briefly, before turning to the other man with a narrow gaze. "Maria's still a bit low on the totem pole for that. Besides, she wants to make her own way, not walk in her grandfather's shoes."

Fury raised an eyebrow, "So she still thinks you worked on that B.S. 'Stargate' program back in the day? The one with the goats?"

Jack had the dignity to look a bit embarrassed, "It's easier to believe than the truth. Besides, I'm Jack O'Neill now, happily retired, we wouldn't want her calling me something unfortunate in public."

Fury nodded, understanding, "Because-"

"-There's only one Nick Fury," Jack nodded, exchanging a brief grin (a smirk in Fury's case) with the other man.

**Marvel Phantom**

Tucker Foley edged a finger surreptitiously into the blinds of his home windows, parting them with the utmost care as he looked out into the street in front of his house. Much like Danny's home had been in the days before, he and his family were now barricaded into their home by a mob of reporters, cameramen, and other public press. Truth be told, Tucker had felt somewhat eclipsed by his friends...not often, but every now and then.

Danny was as close to a celebrity as you could really get in Amity Park without being Dash Baxter, and a lot of that publicity was negative because of his parents, but still...

Danny was, more or less, famous in his own right, even before the 'Fenton Revelation.'

_'I am so razzing him on that name,' _Tucker thought gleefully, smirking slightly. _'Well, that is, if I ever get out of here.'_

Because that was beginning to be a concern.

As was the fact that 'fame' wasn't all that it had cracked up to be.

As the only member of the Fenton's almost-nonexistent circle of acquaintances in Amity Park who was within easy reach, the Foley family had come under fire from the press corps as the only reliable source of information on the new headlining family...especially after they had escaped the city in the early, predawn hours.

The reporters were perhaps even more desperate than they had been prior to the Fenton's leaving. Before that, they had been slowly, but surely, exhausting the Amity Park rumor mill, digging up all of the available information on the family, and generally having a field day with anyone who claimed to know the Fentons in any way, shape, or form.

Now, that (admittedly deep) well had run dry and all the major networks were vamping footage off each other, but nothing new had been published in the last day or so...

Which was an eternity to the news media industry.

As a result, reporters had stormed the hospital in an attempt to talk to Sam, only to discover that there evidently was a line that you couldn't cross even in Amity Park. The first Riot Squad in twenty years of Amity's history had been assembled, defending the hospital and overseeing day-to-day operations. As a result, Tucker Foley's name had come up, and the rest was history.

_'And then there's...'_ Tucker's mind drifted back to the conversation he'd had with his oldest friend, a conversation which had, well...'shattered his worldview' was putting it lightly. Honestly, he wasn't really sure how to take it...or whether or not he should keep it a secret, like Danny had asked him too.

_'I mean, Danny could be going crazy. Not like the fun, 'stay up all night playing video games before a big test' crazy, but the dangerous kind where he has a problem he doesn't think is a problem, andthatmightmeanhisfriendwasdangerousand-'_

Tucker took a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands as he collapsed back onto the sofa, letting the blinds fall shut as he did. Thinking about...'it' made his head hurt. Still, not thinking about it made him feel...weird, anxious...guilty? Like he should be doing something more for his friend. Not completely willingly, his mind drifted back to the bench they'd been sitting on, Danny's distant gaze, and the admissions his friend had made...

_"Ghost Powers," Tucker repeated doubtfully, his earlier cry of disbelief forgotten as he shook his head. "Okay dude, you got me. Is this some new piece of tech you swiped from your parents' lab when weren't looking. I swear I won't tell any-"_

_ "Tucker-" Danny hissed, his eyes lidded tiredly as he tried and failed to express his irritation._

_ "You don't even have to tell me," Tucker shrugged, grinning as his gaze flicked back and forth around the nearly-vacant hall. "But, seriously dude, you have to tell me. Do you have any idea how cool it would be to walk through walls? We're gonna' be in high school this year, Danny! That means high school girls in the locker rooms; Paulina's gonna' be there! She's smokin!"_

_ "Tucker!" Danny scowled, "I'm serious."_

_ And his friend was, Tucker could see as his enthusiasm cooled. Tucker could also see...something else in his friends eyes...something that made the hairs on the back of his neck reach for the skies. He shrugged off the weird vibes..._

_ This was Danny Fenton after all._

_ His friend since 1__st__ grade._

_ Not someone he needed to be...afraid of._

_ "Oooo-kay," Tucker drawled out cautiously. "So...Ghost Powers?" The words tasted silly on his tongue...just a little too absurd, like...little green men stepping out of a comic book or something._

_ Danny rolled his eyes tiredly, dropping his elbows to rest on his knees and hunkering down, not meeting Tucker's gaze. "Yeah. Ghost Powers."_

_ A beat of silence_

_ Which became a moment of awkward quiet, which threatened to stretch on into infinity, because...Tucker reflected, what do you say to your friend when he says he has 'powers'...ghostly or otherwise?_

_ "So you can...pass through stuff?" Tucker asked, stiffly._

_ Danny's shoulders rolled in an exhausted shrug. "Yep."_

_ "And...can you do other stuff?" Tucker tried again, warming to the surreal subject._

_ "Tucker!" Danny shouted, but caught himself at the last minute, slapping his palms to his face in frustration._

_ "What?!" Tucker replied, slightly defensive. "What am I supposed to say, dude? You're telling me you've got superpowers, what do I say to that?"_

_ The fight drained out of Danny as he slumped again, Tucker's heart going out to his friend as the other teen rode an emotional roller coaster. "I don't know," Danny said softly. "Maybe call me a freak or something? It'd be par for the course today."_

_ "I wouldn't-" Tucker started, his brain stalling out. "Wait, who called you...is this about that other thing? Not the Tony Stark thing, or the Poltergeist thing, which you're still going to tell me about," Tucker dictated. "The, umm...psycho-religious-nut thing?"_

_ "Yeah," Danny nodded, "It well, it went like this, I just wanted to get out of the house for a bit and..." So it went that Danny explained his harrowing adventure to his friend, the explanation lifting a __weight off Danny's shoulder, a weight he hadn't realized had been there, as Tucker grimaced, his face almost purpling in anger and fury at the words pouring out of his friends' mouth. It helped that Tucker was believing him, sticking by him, angry _for him.

_ It helped more than words could explain._

_ Still, he couldn't help but stuttering as he explained the bit at the warehouse, conscious of Tucker's unreadable gaze. He walked (rolled, tripped...) through a wall, he'd turned into that _thing._ Still, Tucker didn't flinch, didn't look away when Danny explained the worst part._

_ The fear of his unbeating heart._

_ His Death._

_ Finally, after telling the entire story, and backtracking to explain why he suddenly knew Tony and Howard Stark, Danny went silent. Likewise, Tucker's gaze had gone unusually serious and distant, his hand curling around his PDA as a source of unconscious comfort._

_ "So?" Danny prompted._

_ "I'm sorry," Tucker whispered, sounding as though his throat was suspiciously tight._

_ Danny blinked, startled, "What?"_

_ "This is our fault," Tucker realized with a dawning horror, his suddenly firm grip threatening to crack his prized piece of tech. "Sam and I wanted to go down and see the portal. This is our fault. We did this to you. Oh, god, this is my fault."_

_ Danny's face went blank, an internal war erupting. Part of him knew what Tucker was saying was true, that his friends had played a significant role in making him...what he was now. Another part of him, though, was louder and more fervent. "No, its not."_

_ Tucker looked at him as though he'd lost his mind._

_ "It's not." Danny asserted. "I could have said 'no.' You wanted to go down there, but it was my parents' lab. I knew there was dangerous stuff down there. Mom and Dad have monthly safety lectures...if anything, this is more my fault than yours."_

_ Tucker snorted, yanking his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. Danny knew enough to refrain from commenting on the suspiciously dark, wet-looking marks left behind. "Still my fault," Tucker shrugged._

_ "Is not," Danny growled, his eyes narrow._

_ "Is too," Tucker bit back._

_ "Is not," Danny replied, his lips twitching._

_ "Is too," Tucker hissed, almost shaking with laughter._

_ In short order, the two boys lost all sense of cohesion, falling to the floor in laughter as the nurses glared disapprovingly. With a great effort of will, the two teens managed to erect themselves, though as Danny went to help Tucker up, his right arm passed through Tucker's own arm, leaving the dark-skinned teen to shiver, as if a sudden draft had swept into the room._

_ "Shit," Danny cursed, the unusually foul word catching even himself by surprise as he forced his arm back to opaque solidity. "Sorry about that," Danny winced, cradling his arm as he looked at Tucker's shocked face fearfully. "That tends to happen when I get distracted or something. I hope-"_

_ What? That he wouldn't call him a freak? Run away? Be afraid of him?_

_ 'Yeah, right,' Danny thought derisively. 'He's gonna' hate me, I mean, who wouldn't-'_

_ "That is so cool," Tucker said reverently._

_ "Huh?" Danny asked eloquently._

_ "What else can you do?" Tucker reiterated his earlier question, this time with more enthusiasm._

_ Danny bit his lip, trying to fight a grin. Then, with a sudden awareness of where they were, Danny grabbed his friend's wrist, thankfully with more success this time. "C'mon, not here."_

_ A moment later, Danny had lead them into a mens' restroom down the hall and occupied himself with looking under every stall door as Tucker leaned against the wall. Satisfied they were alone, __Danny locked the restroom door and swallowed, looking suddenly unsure._

_ "Dude, you don't have to show me anything if you don't want to," Tucker hedged._

_ Danny couldn't help his response. Maybe his nerves were getting to him, but he almost fell over again, so helpless was he with laughter. Tucker's face soured as he turned to leave._

_ "Sorry, sorry!" Danny wheezed, halting his friend's movement. "It's just that...we're in a bathroom and, well, what you said..."_

_ Tucker flushed in embarrassment as he realized how his earlier comment could be taken, then rolled his eyes. "Well, if you didn't make a habit of pulling guys into the bathroom with you..."_

_ This time Danny flushed, palming his face._

_ "Okay," The youngest Fenton sighed, his face growing more serious as he got down to business. "I...I'm still kind of new at this, but I think I've got, um...intangibility down."_

_ "Intagi-what?" Tucker asked._

_ Danny shrugged, trying for 'clueless.' "My parents' books. I needed something to do for the last three days and, well, I was curious, since, you know... It means I can pass through things."_

_ "Oh," Tucker nodded, making note of the word._

_ "Anyway, I've pretty much got how to turn that one on and off...it just happens by accident sometimes, like a few minutes ago. The same thing happens with going invisible-"_

_ "INVISI-" Tucker nearly shouted, his voice rising to a crescendo before he could stop himself. Looking suitably ashamed at Danny's glare, Tucker tried again. "Invisibility? Like for real?"_

_ "Watch," Danny nodded, closing his eyes to focus. A chill swept through him as ice crawled up his spine, the feeling of transparency flowing over him like cold water-_

_ "Whoa," Tucker breathed, shocked beyond words as his friend vanished before his eyes. A moment later, Danny reappeared, breathing slightly faster._

_ Holding up a hand, Danny gestured for his friend to wait. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Danny apologized. "Sorry. It's getting easier, but that still takes a lot out of me. Moving through stuff is easier."_

_ "Huh," Tucker nodded, curiosity overriding any fear he might have had. "So what about that...transformation thing you told me about?"_

_ A look of unease crossed Danny's face, mixed with fear, disgust, and a bit of self-loathing. "I-if you really want to see it, I'll do it, but...it's just-"_

_ "I won't push," Tucker cut him off. "If it feels weird, then we're cool. Thanks for telling me anyway, dude, you didn't have to."_

_ "You deserve to know," Danny shrugged._

_ "Like Sam does?" Tucker asked, his mouth running off before he could stop himself. "Sorry, I just-"_

_ "It's cool," Danny waved off, despite his wince. "It's just...I almost didn't tell you. I'm...really weirded out about this, Tucker. What if Sam is...I don't know, scared? Hates me? Blames herself, like you did?"_

_ Tucker sighed, shaking his head. "It's your secret, man. I won't tell her if you don't want to, but Sam could take it. She'd be cool." Inwardly, Tucker added, 'After she got over the fact that she might have actually killed you, brought you back to life, and given you really, really freaky superpowers.'_

_ Yeah...maybe it wasn't such a good idea._

_ At least, right now. They could always tell her later, right?_

_ Even as Danny brought up another denial, brought forth from fear and anxiety, Tucker relented. They didn't need to tell Sam, especially with the whole 'head wound thing.' Maybe after she was better? Even as he thought it, guilt crept back into his mind. Guilt for playing a large role in his best friend's death._

_ Not near-death._

_ Not accident._

_ Death._

_ Did he really want Sam to feel as bad as he did right now?_

_ Yeah...maybe they could put telling Sam off a little longer, he decided as they emerged from the restroom to find Sam's father waiting at the door, ready to allow them in. _

"Tucker, lunch!" His father called from the other room, stirring him from his reminiscence.

"Coming," Tucker replied, sliding off the couch and trudging back into the dining room.

"The vultures haven't moved?" Maurice Foley grunted, unfolding a day-old newspaper. The current paper had been delivered, but no one was quiet so foolish as to attempt to retrieve it.

"Nope," Tucker sighed, fiddling with his PDA and idly surfing the web.

"Tucker," Angela Foley chastised, "You know how I feel about your tech at the table."

"Yeah, yeah," Tucker nodded, slipping the device under the table and, ostensibly, into his pocket. In reality, it now rested on the crux of his leg. His mother scowled and opened her mouth to object, but rolled her eyes and set down the green bean casserole on the table.

"Leave the kid alone Angy," Maurice defended from behind his paper. "We're all under pressure right now and we all need a way to relax."

"Honey, I think I cut Tucker plenty of slack," Angela replied archly, setting down another platter of smoked sausages, onto which the teen's eyes locked. His mother, ever perceptive, slapped a reaching hand away. "Oh no, young man, not until you at least have a serving of vegetables or the fruit salad. I swear, one day you're going to end up in the hospital with scurvy or something."

Tucker whimpered, but obligingly began spooning (small) amounts of the requisite materials onto his plate.

"Maurice, paper away, time to eat," Angela said pointedly, sitting down herself.

Grunting sourly, the older man folded his newspaper and set his elbows on the table, intertwining his fingers as his family did the same, closing their eyes and bowing their heads. Solemnly, Maurice began, "Oh Lord, father who art in heaven, we thank thee for the blessings you have heaped upon us; we thank you for good health, togetherness, our financial stability, and much else besides. We ask you sustain us in this time of need and see to the concerns we have. We pray for our men overseas, those in need of your guidance, and our President."

A moment's pause.

"Because he needs all the help he can get," Maurice added dryly. "Amen."

Tucker and Angela echoed him as the Foley family began consuming the food before them. Unable to abide his curiosity, Tucker finally asked, "Hey dad? Why do you do that? The whole President thing? You've been doing that since I can remember...and you hated Bush, didn't you?"

"The President of the United States," Maurice said gravely, "is the President of the United States. When he's out of office I'll curse his name if I feel the need, but until then I won't hear a word spoken against him in this house at least."

"Oh," Tucker said lowly, the concept somewhat foreign to him, though the core of the matter was understandable. The 'President' was more than an authority figure, he was the leader of the country, and should be paid respect...his dad was big on respect. Of course, Tucker's brain seized on that thought and connected it to the prayer that they had just said and the conversation he'd had with Danny fresh in his mind. What if his parents felt the same way about the Fentons as that nut who'd chased his friend around? After all, _he_ was an authority figure too. Would his dad think he deserved respect? "So what about the guy on the news? That Priest guy who chased Danny around?"

Maurice frowned, looking thunderous, "What about him?"

Tucker shuffled slightly in his seat, thinking that he shouldn't have said anything. Once again his mouth was faster than his brain. "Well, I mean...he's Christian, isn't he? Doesn't that mean we should...I mean, is he-?" Tucker sighed. "If we're Christian and he's well...y'know?"

Maurice kept a tight lid on his emotions, not wanting to scare his son, but it was a close thing. He understood, from a certain point, where Tucker was coming from with his question, badly articulated as it was. Still, another part wanted to sucker-punch the lousy fear-mongering 'Priest' who had chased an innocent teenager (a fourteen year old child!) around a city leading a mob. Still, after that kind of incident, Tucker would naturally have a few doubts as to whether his parents approved of his friendship with the boy, especially with all the condemnation going on towards his family.

His father favored him with a thoughtful, though unreadable, gaze before setting down his fork. "Tucker...men like that, they might call themselves Christian...and he might be Protestant, or Anglican, or even Catholic for that matter, but when he gets up on a soapbox like that, he isn't preaching Christianity, now matter what he might say. That's preaching hate, pure and simple."

Maurice nodded as understanding lit in his son's eyes. "It's not right, son, to hate like that. You can't live your life being afraid of what you don't understand and lashing out against anything unfamiliar."

"Your father's right, Tucker," Angela said, uncharacteristically quiet. "Your friend might not be popular right now, but that's hardly anything new, is it? We won't _make you_ stay as his friend, but we would like to see that you're brave enough to stand by him."

"I wouldn't-" Tucker started to say, but was silenced by his father raising a single hand up.

"We're not accusing you of anything, Tucker." Maurice stalled. "We just want you to understand that we know you might be a little afraid given all of this hooplah around Danny and now us, but...well."

His father cut off and Tucker watched as he and his mother exchanged meaningful stares.

"You know how we go to Grandpa Joe's every Thanksgiving?" Maurice asked eventually.

"Yeah," Tucker nodded, thrown for a loop. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm getting there son." Maurice assured him. "Have you ever gone with him when he goes down to put flowers on his brothers' graves? The ones that got killed in WWII, Vietnam, and Korea?" Tucker shook his head and Maurice sighed. "Well, he makes another stop before he leaves. Every year he puts a set of roses on the tomb of a man named Martin Russel. He died a few years before you were born."

"Martin Russel?" Tucker echoed and Maurice nodded.

"Grandpa Joe was an activist back in the sixties...civil rights, black equality," Maurice explained, causing Tucker to nod. "Anyway, to make a long story short, some people disagreed with the movement, but others wanted to help out. There was a lot of, well...what we call 'hate-speech' nowadays going on back then, much like that man who chased your friend around was yelling about...and a lot worse besides. Violence, shootings, and the like...some people shied away from the movement after those started, others didn't. Now, Martin Russel, a white man by the way, and your grandfather ended up staying in someone's house when they went down to St. Augustine for a rally."

"What happened?" Tucker asked, a pool of dread forming in his stomach.

"Nightriders," Maurice explained shortly. "People who would go around with guns and shoot up houses in the dead of night when they found one that belonged to Desegregationists. Anyway, Martin jumped over Joe and took three bullets for him. One lodged in his spine and Martin never walked again, but that same bullet would have killed your grandfather, it was on level with his heart. Then, a year later, your mother was born."

Tucker's head snapped over to his mother, her eyes suspiciously wet.

"Why-" Tucker's voice cracked and he coughed, "Why did you tell me?"

Maurice sighed. "Because I thought you should know what the world outside these doors is like, Tucker. You're fourteen now, and that isn't as young as it used to be, anymore...with the internet and whatnot. Maybe I told you because people aren't always going to be nice, or kind, or even very good. But, sometimes we have to stand by the people we call friends, no matter how dangerous it might be."

"Oh," Tucker nodded, solemn. Despite the fact that his father was completely off base...he was scared _for_ his friend, not being scared _away from_ Danny, his dad did have a point about standing by your friends. Come hell or high water, Danny was his friend and Danny had asked him to keep quiet about...his powers, so Tucker would zip his lip. He'd be there for his friend, when Danny needed him.

"And-" Here his mother coughed wetly. "And that actually brings up another point which we'd like to discuss with you."

"Huh?" Tucker asked, pondering what other world-changing news would be dropped on him today.

"Now, taking all of what we've told you into account," Angela explained slowly. "I received a call from Madeline Fenton, Danny's mother, today. We had an...enlightening discussion about certain events, among those the 'incident' the other day."

_'I'm not sure if mom was trying to be vague or if that was unintentional,' _Tucker thought wryly, _'Because I'm not sure if I've ever gotten any less information out of a single sentence.'_

"To make a long story short," Maurice cut in as his wife wasn't getting anywhere. "Your mother and I want to give you the option of taking private tutoring with the Fenton kids...which might include moving, depending on a lot of things."

"Oh," Tucker realized, this was definitely life-changing news. His eyebrows furrowed as he thought the proposition over. "Um...not that I don't like the idea, but why?"

"Why are we okay with this? Why are we even thinking about letting you go effectively live with people we can only really call acquaintances?" Maurice grinned. "I'm not a search engine son, you've gotta be a little more specific."

Tucker rolled his eyes. "The school thing? I thought you and mom were big public school people...all that character-building and stuff."

Maurice lost his grin, "When someone gets jammed into their school locker at least once a week, we can make an exception."

Tucker paled drastically, sinking in his seat as his parents' gazes bored into him.

"Oh," Tucker said quietly, for the third time.

"Yes, 'oh,'" Angela replied, not amused. "And if that's the kind of security we can rely on if someone decides to target you because you're Danny Fenton's friend, I think we'll go with the safer option. The Mansons have been informed of the situation and are taking their own steps, but the Fentons are making plans to provide Danny and Jazz with bodyguards and wanted to ask if we'd like the same for you. This would be contingent on you staying with them for a while, at least until we can get out of this town and get a house somewhere else."

"But what about Dad's job?" Tucker yelped, his head spinning from the revelations.

Maybe he wouldn't be teasing Danny about the whole 'Fenton Revelation' thing.

"Son," Maurice said, not unkindly. "I'm an actuary. I can work anywhere anyone places a dollar value on human life." Tucker's father looked up to the glare his wife was giving him. "Honey, it's true and you know it."

"And mom's business?" Tucker asked, grasping at straws as he felt his world shifting beneath his feat. For some reason he was suddenly afraid of the prospect of everything changing, even though his life hadn't been spectacular before.

"Can operate online for a while," Angela dismissed. "Tucker, this isn't really about us. This conversation is more about what you want to happen. Would you like to live with Danny for a while? Just until we get things sorted out...maybe six months? A year at most?"

_A Year._

And wasn't that just terrifying? Living with strange people, because the Fentons were undoubtedly _very _strange for all that they were also good people, for an entire year. He shifted in his seat, shying away from the thought for the moment, "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Absolutely," Angela nodded. "While I'd like to think we've raised you to be brave and help out friends when they need it, part of me wants to barricade you in your room, lock the door, and throw away the key. I really don't like the idea of you being in enough danger to need a bodyguard, Tucker, but...your father and I talked it over and decided that this should really be your decision...for a multitude of reasons, really, but primarily because you'll be eighteen in a few years and you'll need to make your own decisions at that point. Consider this a trial run for adulthood."

"No pressure then?" Tucker asked, a bit sourly as he shoveled a fork-full of sausage into his mouth.

Maurice, at least, appreciated the humor as he chuckled.

**Marvel Phantom**

He was a towering figure.

William Fenton was the kind of man who could walk through the darkest alleys in the worst part of town counting his hundred dollars bills and never have a gang-banger even think about mugging him. It wasn't necessarily his size, which was on par with that of his son, or the fact that all of that bulk was very obviously muscle, or even the ice-cold blue eyes that seared a hole into you. It was something that hovered around him, wreathed him in the kind of power that was _felt _more than seen. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about the man, though he dressed in the kind of finery one might expect from a hundred years prior, but he radiated a raw energy that...while it didn't quite make Danny _afraid _of the man...he was certainly wary.

His grandfather cut a statuesque, almost regal figure, in the doorway of the manor, wearing an enormous slate gray greatcoat thrown over his shoulders and held closed with a tasteful gold clasp. The suit he wore underneath was something natural on him, not formal or restrictive the way such clothing sometimes looked, though it was cut in an older style that Danny hadn't seen before.

His face was...hard, in a way his father's wasn't.

If Danny had known exactly how to describe the man's visage, he would have said it was 'Roman.' High cheekbones, which Jack hadn't inherited, a slightly stronger nose, but the chin was very much the same...as with the forehead. Here and there, Danny could even see bits and pieces of himself...granted, the features he could pick out were tense and worn in a way he couldn't imagine his own face ever growing.

The most prominent feature on his face wasn't so much apparent as conspicuous by its absence.

Even though his father had a younger man's face, Danny could see 'laugh lines' start to form.

William Fenton didn't have anything that remotely resembled laugh lines, though there were a variety of worn and creased marks on his aged visage, underneath a neatly trimmed crop of long gray hair that trailed back into a bound lenght; his face was set in a tight scowl that threatened to set the mood for the entire visit...possibly a very short visit indeed. As Jack and William Fenton approached each other, the atmosphere was thick with tension, the two men looking as different as night and day, emissaries from foreign countries meeting under a tenuous truce.

"Son," William broke the silence first.

"Father," Jack nodded, still tense.

An eternity of silence, then Danny's grandfather turned, "Well, don't just stand out there like a giant traffic cone, boy, get in here." His peace said, the elder man began walking inside.

Danny couldn't see his father's face, but long experience with the man allowed him to predict what the man's face would reflect: blank surprise.

Jazz muttered something like, "Anti-climatic," and shook her head, getting out of the GAV. Maddie and Danny soon followed, looking to the man of the house..._their house_, at least...which wasn't the metaphorical House of Fenton, but the physical building in Amity Park...

They looked to Jack Fenton.

"What's wrong honey?" Maddie asked, approaching her husband cautiously, knowing full well how tender this subject was.

"Nothing," Jack said, shaking his head. "Nothing," he repeated shortly, as if trying to convince himself of the fact. "Let's get inside...don't want to keep the old man waiting then."

The Fentons walked inside the massive building that was Bloodblossom Court, their ancestral home, carrying nothing with them. None of the new arrivals knew exactly how welcome they were, nor how long they could expect that welcome to extend to. This didn't keep Jazz and Danny from rubbernecking slightly, of course, their eyes drawn ever this way and that, seeking out the various staples of the manor's entryway in all their richly appointed glory.

"Dad," Jazz asked quietly, the silent dignity of the manse seemed to demand her voice stay hushed and reverent, "What did you mean earlier, when you said we were going to the witch trial courthouse?"

Jack smiled humorlessly, "Well, according to family legend, and that all I really think it is, by the way, the court were the Salem witches were tried was here on this property. After the trials came to an end, the property was sold to one of our ancestors, John Fenton-Nightingale's grandfather as I recall, and the courthouse was incorporated into the larger structure of the house."

"Oh," Jazz murmured quietly, looking about the interior of the manse.

Two suits of armor, themselves looking ancient, had been set up on either side of the entryway, bearing banners with odd crests and showing signs of rigorous and violent use. Beyond the armors, glass cases held numerous unlabeled objects, though each rested on velvet cushions and bore marks of significant history. Some fifty feet inward, the entryway ascended in a wide staircase that bowed outwards in a gentle arc towards the door as the walls began to bottleneck at the crest of the stairs. Several sets of doors, all dark majestic old-growth wood, were set in the same sturdy gray stone which had made up the exterior walls.

The ceiling hung high above them, gracefully arching to a peak, much like a cathedral, some thirty feet above their heads in a nest of wooden beams that bespoke an earlier school of architecture. The entire room simply wreaked of age, strength, and unspoken persistence through the eras.

This was a place which had been standing long before any of the current occupants...

...and would be standing long after they were gone.

Danny could feel this more acutely than most, his senses attuned to a world that many only glimpsed during their entire lifetimes. The _pressure _which he'd been conscious of since they'd passed the trellises of Bloodblossoms had stepped up another notch when he'd stepped beyond the threshold of the manse, now the feeling was more akin to moving while underwater by several feet. The mild discomfort was so slight that, at time, he forgot about it, only to become aware of it again as the energy inside him surged in time with his beating heart...

_'Which means this is related to me being...whatever I am,' _Danny acknowledged, his vision going slightly cloudy as he peered beyond the mortal realm. _'I wonder what's causing this...it might be the Bloodblossom, but...what about those swirls on the Silverstone? And then it got worse when I moved inside...'_

A sudden suspicion burst forth in his mind, but the teen shook it off, opting to instead watch as his father stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking forward to meet the gaze of his father who stood directly in his path. Both men squared up, apparently ready to have it out right then and there before the elder Fenton's gaze cut to the side, taking in the other three individuals now standing in the hall. William Fenton's blue eyes, now concealed behind a pair of elegant frames, inspected his wayward son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren, giving no hint as to his inner thoughts.

For another long moment, no one spoke.

"You know Jack, when you mother, god rest her soul, said that there as a woman for every man, I had always thought you would prove her wrong. I'm happy, in this instance at least, to see myself mistaken." Jack blinked, taken aback by the admission. "Now, since you've shown up at my doorstep without so much as a letter of warning for the first time in thirty-odd years, I'd like to be introduced to my daughter-in-law and grandchildren before we get down to brass tacks...if you'd be so kind?"

Jack almost sputtered, but appeared to catch himself at the last moment. Clearing his throat, he unfolded a hand to gesture at his wife. "Dad, this is Maddie...er, Madeline, the love of my life and the mother of my children."

William Fenton smiled in an understated and quietly dashing way that, had he been several years younger, might have sent Maddie's heart aflutter. As it was, a faint blush crossed her cheeks as she held out her hand. The Fenton Patriarch frowned slightly at the gloved hand, which was obviously put forth in expectation of a handshake, instead taking her hand and brushing his lips over the back in a kind of half-bow that intensified her blush.

"A woman from the town of Magdala," William noted, grinning. "I imagine the patience it would take to keep up with Jack would be nigh-biblical. William Fenton, my lady, at your service."

"Jack isn't so bad," Maddie replied, finding her smiled less and less forced, as her husband grinned at her defense of his character, before abruptly falling. "Usually."

William chuckled and turned his eye towards the two teens, also in jumpsuits, his gaze locking onto the tallest of the two first. Jack clapped a hand lightly on his daughter's shoulder. "This is Jazz, Jasmine, our oldest. Jazz, this is your grandfather."

There was an uncertainty in his introduction as if Jack was simultaneously both proud and wary to be doing so. The dichotomy was most noticeable as his father repeated his earlier actions with his wife, broadcasting loud and clear that despite, or because of the fact that he'd known his father for so long, he didn't trust his own children in the man's presence.

Jack might have missed the almost-unnoticeable wince of pain in William's eyes, but Jazz and Danny didn't.

"A lovely young woman," William noted, a quiet pride in his voice, blue eyes slightly glassy as he got his first close look at his granddaughter. "You've got the Fenton's blue eyes child, though your mother's face. I find myself glad you didn't inherit mine or Jack's...they'd be a bit to thick for such a beautiful girl."

Jazz's face was flaming as her eyes darted down to the floor, embarrassment and something...warm fighting for dominance in her chest. "Thank you, it's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," The older man stated with such sincerity and sadness that even the wary Jack and Maddie Fenton were caught off-guard. Breathing in sharply and clearing his throat, he stepped away from his granddaughter and moved on to the last member of the new arrivals.

And his breath caught in his throat as a physical pain appeared to lance across his face-

-Danny saw the truth of it, the dark brilliance of a man nearly brought to his knees as a cutting, stabbing agony flashed through his soul.

For a long moment, neither Danny nor William made a move, both brought to a standstill by something neither could fathom. For William, though, the boy in front of him conjured up a thousand and one hateful, angry words spat out in a moment of tragedy he'd mourned for over two decades. Still, the moment passed between one heartbeat and the next, the older man mastering himself visibly, reaching out a hand before Jack could move to introduce the teen.

"William Dickson Fenton, and may I have your name, young man?" Though Danny couldn't see it on the man's face or in his eyes, the man's pain was still obvious in his voice and in his...soul.

Which was something he could think about later.

"Daniel Fenton, sir," the teen replied, smiling brilliantly as he fought down the urge to comfort the man. "But you can call me Danny, if you'd like."

"D-Danny," William nodded, before stiffening abruptly and turning to address the group, "It's been a pleasure to meet you all, but I find myself needing a moment. If you will all take a few minutes to refresh yourselves, I'll see that dinner will be on the table shortly. Jack, ask Wren to see to your things and have the East Wing ready for your stay, however long you'll be joining us for."

And with the abrupt decision, William was already walking off, climbing the stairs as he left.

"Dad," Jack called, "We don't need rooms, we can stay in the GAV-"

"-nonsense," William replied, shaking his head but not turning from his path. "You're a Fenton, son, and this is Bloodblossom Court. There will always be a room and a hot meal for any Fenton while this house stands."

Jack moved to objected, though William cut him off again before the younger man even got a word out.

"Don't fight me on this boy...at least let me have the pleasure of seeing my grandchildren under my roof, if only for a short while," his voice had trailed off near the end, thoughtfully quiet and sad, even as he walked beyond the doorway, his figure somehow diminished now.

And all was silent once again.

"Jack," Maddie asked tentatively, her hand grasping towards her husband's arm. "What was that?"

"Don't know Mads," Jack grunted, the orange-clad giant running a hand through his hair as he turned away from his father's path, the expression on his face almost...worried.

**Marvel Phantom**

"Okay, are you sure they went this way?" Harriet asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

"Pretty sure," Larry replied, trying to keep the annoyance he felt from lacing his tone.

Putting the vehicle in park once again, Larry Johnson pulled out his atlas and flipped to the dogeared (one of them, anyway) page which held the magnified view of Salem Massachusetts. Screwing up his face in thought, the driver traced a finger along the roadway between the two modern-day cities of Salem and Danvers.

There was nothing there.

Looking up, he checked his rear view mirror, looked at the mile marker, and double-checked his results on the map. "This is it."

"That's what you said last time," Harriet noted doubtfully.

"Well, if _someone _didn't need to stop to tinkle-" Larry began irritably.

"I told you, _I had to go_!" Harriet fairly hissed an angry and embarrassed flush rising on her face and chest.

"Fine," Larry snapped, then sighed. "Fine," he repeated more calmly, his boss looking less and less likely to explode. "Look, I know we lost them in Salem, but I saw them switch onto the highway before that and they were headed towards Danvers. You got your news people to check the rest stops, RV parks, and hotels in _both _cities and came up clean. Either they're down this road or we've lost them...which would you rather it be?"

Harriet swallowed her objections and nodded. "Okay, so what is this place then? It looks like a private drive."

Shifting the vehicle into drive, the cameraman began to edge down the dark service road/private drive, paying closer attention to the surface he was driving on as they passed from asphalt to hardened earth. "Not sure. Its not on the maps, which means it could be, but I'd think they mark something like this...creepy as hell, though."

"Tell me about it," Harriet grunted, shaking off images of the things which Maddie and Jack had shown her. _'They weren't real. Demons aren't real. Jack was making fun of you, like he always used to, Harrie Chin! Maddie was in on it this time, too, but we'll show them both! We'll show them all!'_

Larry glanced away from the road, eying his boss warily as the Asian woman began to chuckle under her breath, the dark tone of the laughter suggestion she was...he hesitated to use the word 'plotting,' but...yeah, there it was. Shivering, he shook off the strange turn his boss' ruminations had taken over the course of the last few days.

Harriet had always been...goal-oriented, he supposed, but this was...

_'Weird, obsessive, crazy,'_ Larry listed, trying to pretend he didn't hear the mutterings or words like 'vengeance' and 'suffering' coming from the passenger's seat. _'Maybe I should ask for a transfer after this?'_

Images of his paycheck, sure to inflate after Harriet made the 'big-time' after breaking a Fenton interview flew before his mind. Similar ideas about hot cars and hotter women slowly turned his mind back towards the road. _'Okay, maybe not. Maybe I'll stick around...'_

Larry paused at the fork in the road.

"Hey boss."

"-and then they can lick my feet like the dogs they are!"

"Boss."

"Oh, and I can't forget about the network executives, put me on correspondent duty, huh?"

"_Boss._"

"Who do they think I am, Asian Reporter Trisha Takinawa? I was born in Boston for crying out loud!"

"Boss!" Larry shouted.

"What!" Harriet replied, snapping out of her revenge fanta-daydreams. Snapping out of her daydreams.

"Which way?" Larry asked, his tone deadpan.

"Oh," Harriet realized, a slight blush coming over her face as she realized he had been listening to her completely audible mutterings. "Hmm..."

_'Larry, man,'_ the cameraman thought to himself as he eyed his boss again, following the curves underneath her (slightly ruffled) business dress, _'When you start thinking the crazy boss-lady is cute when she blushes, you've got problems.'_

This was not a good sign.

"This isn't good," Tris-Harriet unknowingly echoed the sentiment. "On the one hand, we might get arrested by a forest ranger if we're caught on federal land without a good excuse. On the other hand, we might get arrested if we head down the other way...which I'm almost sure is a private drive by this point."

"Tactical Retreat?" Larry pondered.

Harriet snorted, "As if. Let's head on a little further and see if there's actually a house here. If there is, _then _we regroup and do a little research...and get a hotel for the night. You're pretty ripe, Larry."

The driver rolled his eyes and shifted the car into drive again, not commenting on the 'au de sex' he could smell wafting off her. Besides, she did have a point, he smelled pretty rank by this point.

"Whoa," Larry muttered, all thoughts of a shower fleeing his mind as glimpsed the massive structure at the end of the road.

"Whoa is right," Harriet muttered, suddenly feeling (ever so slightly) out of her depth with this advent. "What is this?"

"Bloodblossom Court," Larry read from on top the enormous gate, then checked the ground illuminated by his headlights. "Those monster treads couldn't be anything else. I'd stake my Mechanical Engineering degree on it."

"I'm more surprised by the fact that you even went to college," Harriet muttered, mulling over her choices. Running into the Fentons once, by accident, they could explain away as an accident, however unlikely. Twice? Not even Jack would buy that...

...okay, maybe he would, but Maddie was smarter than that, especially if she'd worked out how to jam her satellite uplink.

"Turn us around," Harriet ordered eventually. "They're holed up in here...whatever this is, I don't think they're going anywhere. Let's get some sleep, a shower, a decent meal, and we'll stake out the place tomorrow night after a little research."

"Yes mam," Larry nodded, relieved that they weren't going into any further legal gray area at the moment. He could do it, but he'd rather do it on a full night's sleep and not smelling like he'd spent two days in a car without a shower.

Neither noticed the careful gaze directed towards their retreating car, nor the man it belonged to as he retreated further into the shadows surrounding Bloodblossom Court. Roy sighed, "Lord William is gonna' wanna' hear 'bout this one, yessiree."

**Marvel Phantom**

For all the fact that dinner was an extravagant affair, it was also a subdued one. The Lord of Bloodblossom Court had been as good as his word and had rooms prepared for his guests, then laid out a lavish banquet in a dining room fit for a king. All of the visiting family felt slightly out of place, save Jack, as they took in the fine china settings, golden utensils laid out on lacy silk napkins inlaid with silver thread. The result was, much like the manor itself, a kind of understated dignity and strength. There was none of the gilded and gaudy décor which Danny had glimpsed when flipping through Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (out of sheer boredom, he promised).

The artwork on the walls, the furniture dotting the room, the whole of the house it seemed, was done in a variety of rich and deep colors that set Danny at ease, even though he felt he was completely miss-dressed for the occasion.

Honestly, the most gaudy and tacky things in the room were probably the Fenton jumpsuits.

Danny swallowed as he eyed the extravagantly prepared meal before him, flickering glances towards both his grandfather and his father, trying to take cues from them and eventually resorting to trading blank stares with his sister over the long table separating them.

Because she was clueless too.

Both were left staring at the assorted tableware with puzzlement. Finally, in a fit of desperation and hunger, Danny and Jazz each picked a different implement under the sharp gaze of their elders. Jack smiled openly and dared his father to comment as the older man's lips thinned visibly, his face going purple. Jack's smile widened to a shark's smirk, ready to defend his children and their faux paus, but...

The laughter caught him off guard.

And everyone else too.

William Fenton's laughter was deeper than Jack's, more ebullient rather than jubilant and rusty from disuse, but carrying an honest amusement that was common between both father and son. Jack's jaw dropped as he unabashedly stared at his father, who had almost bent-double in his chair with deep belly-laughter.

"Oh my," he wheezed eventually, catching his breath, "I dare say I needed that. I apologize, but Danny, Jazz...you are both very obviously your father's children. I remember Jack used to make a point of using the wrong utensil during dinner in an attempt to bait me. I am a bit ashamed to say it worked all too well."

Jack's jaw worked as his brain short-circuited.

Maddie snickered next to him.

"Kids," Maddie gestured for their attention, "just eat with whichever fork, spoon, and knife for tonight. Sometime soon we'll sit down and I'll show you the ins-and-outs of table manners. I know your father and I don't host many parties, but that's no excuse for you two to flounder like this."

Danny and Jazz reddened, caught in a rare moment of dual-embarrassment.

"Mads," Jack started, his mouth and brain finally synching with each other and able to express his displeasure, "Danny and Jazz don't need to learn any of that fancy-pants hooey. They're fine just the way they are-"

"-and I agree," Maddie interrupted her husband as he paused to breath, "But that doesn't mean they should turn down a useful life skill. What if we end up attending a business party, Jack? If Howard invites us somewhere to make connections, he'll want us to bring the kids too and we don't want them to embarrass themselves, now do we?"

Jack 'harrumphed,' but allowed the subject to drop.

Both missed the amused glint in William Fenton's eye as he precisely navigated his way through the cutlery and moved through the dishes. Finally, after a short but comfortable silence passed, William cleared his throat and looked at his son.

Jack stiffened.

"While I can't say it isn't nice to see you again after all these years," and here his audience was polite enough to ignore the way the elder man's voice cracked on the word 'years,' "I have to wonder what could have possibly convinced you to return to the Court, son. I'm fairly confident in my assertion that it wasn't me."

Jack swallowed awkwardly, his pride as the head of his own family asserting itself. "I don't guess you still get the paper out here, do you Old Man?"

William nodded after a moment, his gaze transitioning into something calculating. Jack found himself relaxing at the sight. This was a side of his father that he knew all too well. This was a side of the man that he could deal with. The emotional, withered, sad individual who had greeted them?

He hadn't had any idea how to respond to that.

"I had thought it might be something like that," William nodded, sipping at his wine. "So, doubtless you've come to serve me some crow, have you? Time for you forebearer to eat his words, eh?" The words would have, should have, been sharp, but the tiredness in the man's voice and his banal tone kept them from having any bite. Instead, William sounded...resigned.

Danny frowned, heartened to see an equal expression on his sister's face.

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind," Jack grunted, not meeting his father's gaze.

William snorted.

Jack bristled like an angry cat.

"William-" Maddie began.

"Call me father, or dad, or Old Man," William dismissed, waving a hand aside and sparing a glance for his grandchildren. "That goes for you kids as well. I'll let you get away with 'sir' in a formal setting, but while we're around the Court, call me whatever you like."

"We raised them right, dad," Jack griped. "They won't be disrespectful like you're trying to trick them into being so that you can criticize our parenting, but they won't bow and scrape for you either."

William sighed. "Jack, I didn't mean to imply anything. I merely meant to explain that I've learned the futility of forcing respect where someone is...disinclined to give it."

Jack's eyes narrowed.

"Be that as it may," Maddie interrupted again, "Jack and I were wondering, hoping actually, that as the Fenton Paterfamilias, you would be able to-"

"-ah," William breathed, understanding coloring his features and the calculating gleam returning. "Money, eh? I've seen enough in those tabloid rags people call newspapers these days to know you've put what you're allowed to good use...I am afraid that further funding would have conditions, though."

Jack stood abruptly, his chair doubtlessly scuffing the hardwood floor as it was slammed backwards, "C'mon Maddie, we're leaving."

William's gaze hardened, "Jack, don't be a fool about this, all I'm asking is-"

"-I don't want to hear it!" Jack roared. "This is the way it always works with you, Old Man. Its just a deal, right? Just a chance for you to get your hooks in? You didn't think I was paying attention during all those lessons, huh? Well, I learned something, at least; you're a conniving old man and I'm not letting you try to do what you tried to do to me to my family."

Old anger flared behind William's glasses, "I _tried_ to make you a respectable, upstanding-"

"-Leach!" Jack spat. "You wanted me to peddle influence, find skeletons in closets, figure out where all the bodies were buried. You won't get the chance with my kids! C'mon Mads."

"You haven't changed a lick, boy," William growled, "always storming ahead, damn the consequences, the rules, and anyone you hurt in the process. Listen to reason for once in your life and hear me out."

Jazz and Danny exchanged wide-eyed stares, each amazed by their father's temper. Save for a precious few occasions, the jovial giant Jack Fenton could be depended on to be an exuberant, if polite and outgoing, man. Outside of the few ongoing arguments between their mother and father (which we're actual arguments, so much small-scale wars that occurred on a predictable timetable), true vitriol was something very rare in the Fenton home.

Even as Jack and William raised their respective voices, no longer bothering with the pretense of discussion, Madeline Fenton decided very firmly that she had had _enough_.

"That's it!" The Fenton matriarch shouted, slamming her palms on the table.

The noise echoed like a bomb going off, leaving silence in it's wake. Turning a venomous gaze on her husband, she practically hissed. "Jack Fenton, sit yourself back down and keep a civil tongue in your head or so help me you'll be spending the night in the Fenton Stockades! I know you don't like your father, you don't have to and I won't force you, but you will maintain the pretense of civility with him while your _children are in the room_! If you can't do that, you're not the man I married."

Jack cringed, sitting back down and staring resolutely at his plate, unable to meet his children's stares after glimpsing the shock on their faces.

"And you," Maddie growled, turning to face a wincing William Fenton, the stoic and fierce beast of a man replaced by a cowardly lion. "My family needs your help and we are not beggars asking for a handout. That said, while we are open to a bargain for increased financial support from the Fenton Trust, we will not subject ourselves to an unconditional contract. Your terms had better be appropriate or I will personally see to it that neither Jack, nor I, nor our children will ever see you again."

Maddie inhaled, her ardor having brought a flush to her face.

"Am I understood?" She asked gravely, alternatively eying her husband and her father-in-law.

Both nodded soundlessly.

"Good," Maddie seated herself, then shot a glance at her children who reacted as if poked with a cattle prod. "And if I catch either of you two imitating their behavior, they will need to invent a new word for how much trouble you will be in, am I clear?"

"Yes mam," Danny and Jazz squeaked, quivering in their seats.

A heartbeat of silence as all of the Fentons digested what had just happened.

Pasting a smile on her face, Maddie looked towards William again, the picture of a happy and chipper homemaker with promises of death lashing out in her eyes. "Now, father, what was that about a few conditions?"

William was very proud of the fact that he maintained a straight face during the following discussion. He was also very proud, and would have to tease his son immensely, regarding the fire he'd seen in his daughter-in-law's eyes...the same fire he'd seen in his dear Helena's eyes the first day they'd met. All told, the talk went well enough and William was able to retire to his bed with a ghost of a smile on his face.

* * *

Yay, got a chapter out!

Okay, I know many of you were probably looking forward to a DC Phantom Chapter, but that's been delayed because...let's see: garage sale coming up, summer classes just started, I'm hosting a GURPS campaign this week, etc... Marvel is only getting a new chapter this week because it was mostly finished and only needed final editing. DC might pop up next week if everything goes well.

If anyone reading this story has some advice regarding the Catholic Church in the Marvel Universe(s), I would really like a little advice on how to handle it. So far I've only found an 'active' Catholic Church in the 1602 timeline and that weird storyline where Nightcrawler became Pope (no, I'm not making that up, it actually exists and, yes, it is just as strange as it sounds). Personally, I have a hard time believing that ANY organization which has existed for nearly two millennia in a world like Marvel doesn't have its fingers pretty deep in some pies. I've hinted, here and there, that I might be adopting and blending another iconic series into Marvel Phantom. For those of you who know what I'm talking about, if I can't find a good Marvel 'verse Catholic Church to use, you might be seeing a certain secret British Organization being mentioned...not playing an active part, necessarily (at least, not yet), but definitely being included in the world.

This decision is being carefully made, please don't ask me to start dumping in various anime/manga/cartoons/etc...this won't be a megacrossover. Marvel is confusing enough as it is.

Finally, I did touch on some pretty...well, touchy subjects. Personally, I think Danny Phantom canon did an amazing job of avoiding the topic of religion, especially dealing with ghosts as heavily as they were. I'm not really up to that level of professional PR & PC (Public Relations & Political Correctness), so I'm going to be extraordinarily stupid here and try to incorporate religious viewpoints into this fic. I realize that I'm pressing a hot button topic with SO VERY MANY people, so feel free to let me have it with both barrels. I just can't really justify an unrealistic world where religion is not impacted AT ALL by the announcement that ghosts exist.

Oh yeah, and that's not mentioning the fact that I brought up the civil rights difficulties and race relations in the same chapter. Hmm...I think a chapter like this takes a special kind of crazy.

So, yeah, sorry if I've just ruined your favorite story or something, but at least tell me how much you hate me as you leave.

Read & Review,

-Slayer Out.


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